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THE 


SHOES OF FORTUNE, 


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BY 

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 



FOUR DRAWINGS BY OTTO SPECKTER, 

AND 

OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS. 



^ NEW YORK: 

JOHN WILEY, 161 BROADWAY, 

[OLD STAND OF WILEY & PUTNAM.] 


1848. 

















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CONTENTS. 



# 




THE SHOES OF FORTUNE: PAOE . 

I. A Beginning 5 

II. What befell the Councillor 9 

III. The Watchman’s Adventure . . . .21 

IV. A Moment of Head Importance — An Evening’s 

“ Dramatic Readings” — A most strange Journey 32 

V. The Metamorphosis of the Copying-Clerk . . 41 

VI. The best that the Galoshes gave .... 56 

THE FIR-TREE: G4 

THE SNOW-OUEEN, in Skyen Stories. 

I. Which treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters . 79 

II. A Little Boy and a Little Girl .... 82 

III. The Flower-Garden 91 

IV. The Prince and Princess 102 

V. The Little Robber-Maiden 113 

VI. The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman . 121 

VII, The Palace of the Snow-Q,ueen 126 

THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP . 133 

THE ELFIN MOUND 142 

THE LEAP-FROG^ 154 

THE ELDER-BUSH 158 

THE RED SHOES 172 

THE BELL 183 

HOLGER DANSKE 192 

THE EMPEROR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA . .201 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY OTTO SPECKTER 


PAGE. 

THE LITTLE FIR-TREE 64 

KAY AND GERDA FRONTISPIECE. 

GERDA IN THE PALACE Ill 

«••"••••* . 154 


THE LEAP-FROG 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 



his descriptions or in his style of writing. Those who do 
not like him, magnify it, shrug up their shoulders, and ex- 
claim — There he is again ! — I, for my part, know very well 
how I can bring about this movement and this exclama- 
tion. It would happen immediately if I were to begin 
here, as I intended to do, with, “Rome has its Corso, 
Naples its Toledo — “ Ah ! that Andersen ; there he is 


6 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


again !” they would cry ; yet I must, to please my fancy, 
continue quite quietly, and add : “ But Copenhagen has 
its East Street.” 

Here, then, we will stay for the present. In one of the 
houses not far from the new market a party was invited, — 
a very large party, in order, as is often the case, to get a 
return invitation from the others. One half of the com- 
pany was already seated at the card-table, the other half 
awaited the result of the stereotype preliminary observa- 
tion of the lady of the house : 

“ Now let us see what we can do to amuse ourselves.” 

They had got just so far, and the conversation began to 
crystallize, as it could but do with the scanty stream which 
the commonplace world supplied. Amongst other things, 
they spoke of the middle ages : some praised that period as 
far more interesting, far more poetical than our own too so- 
ber present ; indeed Councillor Knap defended this opinion 
so warmly, that the hostess declared immediately on his 
side, and both exerted themselves with unwearied elo- 
quence. The Councillor boldly declared the time of King 
Hans to be the noblest and the most happy period.* 

While the conversation turned on this subject, and was 
only for a moment interrupted by the arrival of a journal 


* a.d. 1483-1513. 


A BEGINNING. 


7 


that contained nothing worth reading, we will just step 
out into the antechamber, where cloaks, mackintoshes, 
sticks, umbrellas, and shoes, -were deposited. Here sat 
two female figures, a young and an old one. One might 
have thought at first they were servants come to accom- 
pany their mistresses home ; but on looking nearer, one 
soon saw they could scarcely be mere servants ; their 
forms were too noble for that, their skin too fine, the cut 
of their dress too striking. Two fairies were they ; the 
younger, it is true, was not Dame Fortune herself, but one 
of the waiting-maids of her handmaidens who carry about 
the lesser good things that she distributes; the other 
looked extremely gloomy — it was Care. She always at- 
tends to her own serious business herself, as then she is 
sure of having it done properly. 

They were telling each other, with a confidential inter- 
change of ideas, where they had been during the day. 
The messenger of Fortune had only executed a few unim- 
portant commissions, such as saving a new bonnet from a 
shower of rain, <fcc. &c. ; but what she had yet to perform 
was something quite unusual. 

“ I must tell you,” said she, “that to-day is my birth- 
day ; and in honor of it, a pair of walking-shoes or ga- 
loshes has been intrusted to me, which I am to carry to 


8 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


mankind. These shoes possess the property of instantly 
transporting him who has them on to the place or the pe- 
riod in which he most wishes to be ; every wish, as regards 
time or place, or state of being, will be immediately ful- 
filled, and so at last man will be happy here below.” 

“ Do you seriously believe it ?” replied Care, in a se- 
vere tone of reproach. “ No ; he will be very unhappy, 
and will assuredly bless the moment when he feels that he 
has freed himself from the fatal shoes.” 

“ Stupid nonsense !” said the other, angrily. “ I will 
put them here by the door. Some one will make a mistake 
for certain and take the wrong ones — he will be a happy 
man.” 

Such was their conversation. 


/ 


II. 


WHAT BEFELL THE COUNCILLOR. 



It was late ; Councillor Knap, deeply occupied with the 
times of King Hans, intended to go home, and malicious 
Fate managed matters so that his feet, instead of finding 
their way to his own galoshes, slipped into those of For- 
tune. Thus caparisoned the good man walked out of the 
well-lighted rooms into East Street. By the magic power 
of the shoes he was carried back to tlfe times of King Hans ; 
on which account his foot very naturally sank in the mud 


10 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


and puddles of the street, there having been in those days 
no pavement in Copenhagen. 

“ Well ! this is too bad ! How dirty it is here !” sighed 
the Councillor. “As to a pavement, I can find no traces 
of one, and all the lamps, it seems, have gone to sleep.” 

The moon was not yet very high ; it was besides rather 
foggy, so that in the darkness all objects seemed mingled 
in chaotic confusion. At the next corner hung a votive 
lamp before a Madonna, but the light it gave was little 
better than none at all ; indeed, he did not observe it be- 
fore he was exactly under it, and his eyes fell upon the 
bright colors of the picture which represented the well- 
known group of the Virgin and the infant Jesus. 

“ That is probably a wax-work show,” thought he, “ and 
the people delay taking down their sign in hopes of a late 
visitor or two.” 

A few persons in the costume of the time of King Hans 
passed quickly by him. 

“ How strange they look ! The good folks come proba- 
bly from a masquerade !” 

Suddenly was heard the sound of drums and fifes ; the 
bright blaze of a fire shot up from time to time, and its 
ruddy gleams seemed* to contend with the bluish light of 
the torches. The Councillor stood still, and watched a 


WHAT BEFELL THE COUNCILLOR. 


11 


most strange procession pass by. First came a dozen drum- 
mers, who understood pretty well how to handle their 
instruments ; then came halberdiers, and some armed with 
cross-bows. The principal person in the procession was a 
priest. Astonished at what he saw, the Councillor asked 
what was the meaning of all this mummery, and who that 
man was. 

“That’s the Bishop of Zealand,” was the answer. 

“ Good Heavens ! what has taken possession of the 
Bishop ?” sighed the Councillor, shaking his head. It cer- 
tainly could flbt be the Bishop ; even though he was con- 
sidered the most absent man in the whole kingdom, and 
people told the drollest anecdotes about him. Reflecting 
on the matter, and without looking right or left, the Coun- 
cillor went through East Street and across the Håbro- 
Platz. The bridge leading to Palace Square was not to be 
found ; scarcely trusting his senses, the nocturnal wan- 
derer discovered a shallow piece of water, and here fell in 
with two men who very comfortably were rocking to and 
fro in a boat. 

“ Does your honor .want to cross the ferry to the Holme?” 
asked they. 

“ Across to the Holme !” said the Councillor, who knew 
nothing of the age in which he at that moment Avas ; “ no : 


12 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


I am going to Christianshafen, to Little Market Street.” 

Both men stared at him in astonishment. 

“ Only just tell me where the bridge is,” said he. “ It 
is really unpardonable that there are no lamps here ; and 
it is as dirty as if one had to wade through a morass.” 

The longer he spoke with the boatmen, the more unin- 
telligible did their language become to him. 

“ I don’t understand your .Bornholmish dialect,” said 
he at last, angrily, and turning his back upon them. He 
was unable to find the bridge : there was no railway either. 
“ It is really disgraceful what . a state this place is in,” 
muttered he to himself. Never had his age, with which, 
however, he was always grumbling, seemed so miserable 
as on this evening. “ I’ll take a hackney-coach !” thought 
he. But where were the hackney-coaches ? Not one was 
to be seen. 

“ I must go back to the New Market ; there, it is to be 
hoped, I shall find some coaches ; for if I don’t, I shall 
never get safe to Christianshafen.” 

So off he went in the direction of East Street, and had 
nearly got to the end of it when the moon shone forth. 

“ God bless me ! What wooden scaffolding is that 
which they have set up there ?” cried he involuntarily, as 


WHAT BEFELL THE COUNCILLOR. 13 

lie looked at East Gate, which, in those days, was at the 
end of East Street. 

He found, however, a little side-door open, and through 
this he went, and stepped into our New Market of the 
present time. It was a huge desolate plain ; some wild 
bushes stood up here and there, while across the field 
flowed a broad canal or river. Some wretched hovels for 
the Dutch sailors, resembling great boxes, and after which 
the place was named, lay about in confused disorder on 
the opposite bank. 

“I either behold a fata morgana, or I am regularly 
tipsy,’’ whimpered out the Councillor. “ But what’s 
this ?” 

He turned round anew, firmly convinced that he was 
seriously ill. He gazed at the street formerly so well 
known to him, and now so strange in appearance, and 
looked at the houses more attentively : most of them were 
of wood, slightly put together ; and many had a thatched 
roof. 

“No, — I am far from well,” sighed he; f ‘and yet I 
drank only one glass of punch ; but I cannot suppose it : 

it was, too, really very wrong to give us punch and 

hot salmon for supper. I shall speak about it at the first 
opportunity. I have half a mind to go back again, and 


14 THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 

say what I suffer. But no, that would be too silly ; and 
Heaven only knows if they are up still.” 

He looked for the house, but it had vanished. 

“It is really dreadful,” groaned he, with increasing 
anxiety ; “ I cannot recognize East Street again ; there is 
not a single decent shop from one end to the other ! No- 
thing but wretched huts can I see anywhere ; just as if 
I were at Ringsted. Oh ! I am ill ! I can scarcely bear 
myself any longer. Where the deuce can the house be ? 
It must be here on this very spot ; yet there is not the 
slightest idea of resemblance, to such a degree has every 
thing changed this night ! — At all events here are some 
people up and stirring. Oh ! oh ! I am certainly very 
ill!” 

He now hit upon a half-open door, through a chink of 
which a faint light shone. It was a sort of hostelry of 
those times ; a kind of public-house. The room had some 
resemblance to the clay-floored halls in Holstein ; a pretty 
numerous company, consisting of seamen, Copenhagen 
burghers, and a few scholars, sat here in deep converse 
over their pewter cans, and gave little heed to the person 
who entered. 

“ By your leave !”’ said the Councillor to the Hostess, 
who came bustling towards him ; “ I’ve felt so queer all 


WHAT BEFELL THE COUNCILLOR. 


15 


of a sudden ; would you have the goodness to send for a 
hackney-coach to take me to Christianshafen ?” 

The woman examined him with eyes of astonishment, 
and shook her head ; she then addressed him in German. 
The Councillor thought she did not understand Danish, 
and therefore repeated his wish in German. This, in con- 
nection with his costume, strengthened the good woman in 
the belief that he was a foreigner. That he was ill, she 
comprehended directly ; so she brought him a pitcher of 
water, which tasted certainly pretty strong of the sea, al- 
though it had been fetched from the well. 

The Councillor supported his head on his hand, drew a 
long breath, and thought over all the wondrous things he 
saw around him. 

“ Is this the Daily News of this evening ?” he asked 
mechanically, as he saw the Hostess push aside a large 
sheet of paper. • 

The meaning of this councillorship query remained, of 
course, a riddle to her; yet she handed him the paper 
without replying. It was a coarse wood-cut representing 
a splendid meteor ‘‘as seen in the town of Cologne,” 
which was to be read below in bright letters. 

“ That is very old !” said the Councillor, whom this 
piece of antiquity began to make considerably more cheer- 


i 6 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


ful. “ Pray how did you come in possession of this rare 
print ? It is extremely interesting, although the whole is 
a mere fable. Such meteorous appearances are to be ex- 
plained in this way ; — that they are the reflections of the 
Aurora Borealis, and it is highly probable they are caused 
principally by electricity.” 

Those persons who were sitting nearest him and heard 
his speech, stared at him in wonderment ; and one of them 
rose, took off his hat respectfully, and said with a serious 
countenance, “You are no doubt a very learned man, 
Monsieur.” 

“ Oh no,” answered the Councillor, “ I can only join in 
conversation on this topic and on that, as indeed one must 
do according to the demands of the world at present.” 

“ Modestia is a fine virtue,” continued the gentleman ; 
“ however, as to your speech I must say, mihi secus videtur : 
yet I am willing to suspend my judicium” 

“ May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of speak- 
ing ?” asked the Councillor. 

“ I am a Bachelor in Theologia ,” answered the gentle- 
man, with a stiff reverence. 

This reply fully satisfied the Councillor ; the title suited 
the dress. “ He is certainly,” thought he, “ some village 


WHAT BEFELL THE COUNCILLOR. 


17 


schoolmaster, — some queer old fellow, such as one still 
often meets in Jutland.” 

“ This is no locus docendi, it is true,” began the clerical 
gentleman ; “ yet I beg you earnestly to let us profit by 
your learning. Your reading in the ancients is, sine dubio , 
of vast extent ?” 

“ Oh yes, I’ve read a something, to be sure,” replied 
the Councillor. “ I like reading all useful works ; but I 
do not on that account despise the modern ones ; tis only 
the unfortunate ‘ Tales of Every-day Life’ that I cannot 
bear, — we have enough and more than enough such in 
reality.” 

“Tales of Every-day Life?” said our Bachelor inquir- 
ingly. 

“ I mean those new-fangled novels, twisting and writh- 
ing themselves in the. dust of commonplace, which also 
expect to find a reading public.” 

“ Oh,” exclaimed the clerical gentleman smiling, “ there 
is much wit in them ; besides they are read at court. The 
King likes the history of Sir Iffven and Sir Gaudian par- 
ticularly, which treats of King Arthur and his Knights of 
the Round Table ; he has more than once joked about it 
with his high vassals.” 

« I have not read that novel,” said the Councillor ; “ it 


2 


18 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


must be quite a new one, that Heiberg has published 
lately.” 

‘‘No,” answered the theologian of the time of King 
Hans ; “ that book is not written by a Heiberg, but was 
imprinted by Godfrey Yon Gehmen.” 

“ Oh, is that the author’s name ?” said the Councillor. 

It is a very old name ; and, as well as I recollect, he was 
the first printer that appeared in Denmark.” 

“ Yes, he is our first printer,” replied the clerical gen- 
tleman hastily. 

So far all went on well. Some one of the worthy burgh- 
ers now spoke of the dreadful pestilence that had raged 
in the country a few years back, meaning that of 1484. The 
Councillor imagined it was the cholera that was meant, 
which people made so much fuss about ; and the discourse 
passed off satisfactorily enough. The war of the bucca- 
neers of 1490 was so recent that it could not fail being al- 
luded to ; the English pirates had, they said, most shame- 
fully taken their ships while in the roadstead ; and the 
Councillor, before whose eyes the Herostratic* event of 
1801 still floated vividly, agreed entirely with the others 

* Herostratus, or Erostratus, — an Ephesian who wantonly set 
fire to the famous temple of Diana, in order to commemorate his name 
by so uncommon an action. 


WHAT BEFELL THE COUNCILLOR. 19 

in abusing the rascally English.' With other topics he was 
not so fortunate ; every moment brought about some new 
confusion, and threatened to become a perfect Babel ; for 
the worthy Bachelor was really too ignorant, and the sim- 
plest observations of the Councillor sounded to him too 
daring and fantastical. They looked at one another from 
the crown of the head to the soles of the feet ; and when 
matters grew to too high a pitch, then the Bechelor talked 
Latin, in the hope of being better understood ; — but it was 
of no use, after all. 

“ What’s the matter ?” asked the Hostess, plucking the 
Councillor by the sleeve ; and now his recollection returned, 
for in the course of the conversation he had entirely forgot- 
ten all that had preceded it. 

“ Merciful God, where am I !” exclaimed he in agony ; 
and while he so thought, all his ideas and feelings of over- 
powering dizziness, against which he struggled with the 
utmost power of desperation, encompassed him with re- 
newed force. “ Let us drink claret, and mead, and Bremen 
beer,” shouted one of the guests — “ and you shall drink 
with us !” 

Two maidens approached. One wore a cap of two 
staring colors, denoting the class of persons to which she 
belonged. They poured out the liquor, and made the most 


20 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


friendly gesticulations ; while a cold perspiration trickled 
down the back of the poor Councillor. 

“ What’s to be the end of this ! What’s to become of 
me !” groaned he ; but he was forced, in spite of his oppo- 
sition, to drink with the rest. They took hold of the worthy 
man ; who, hearing on every side that he was intoxicated, 
did not in the least doubt the truth of this certainly not 
very polite assertion ; but on the contrary implored the 
ladies and gentlemen present to procure him a hackney- 
coach : they, however, imagined he was talking Russian. 

Never, before, he thought, had he been in such a coarse 
and ignorant company ; one might almost fancy the people 
had turned heathens again. “ It is the most dreadful mo- 
ment of my life : the whole world is leagued against me !” 
But suddenly it occurred to him that he might stoop down 
under the table, and then creep unobserved out of the door. 
He did so ; but just as he was going, the others remarked 
what he was about ; they laid hold of him by the legs : and 
now, happily for him, off fell his fatal shoes — and with them 
the charm was at an end. 

The Councillor saw quite distinctly before him a lantern 
burning, and behind this a large handsome house. All 
seemed to him in .proper order as usual ; it was East Street, 
splendid and elegant as we now see it. He lay with his 


THE WATCHMAN^ ADVENTURE. 


21 


feet towards the doorway, and exactly opposite sat the 
watchman asleep. 

“ Gracious Heaven !” said he, “ have I lain here in the 
street and dreamed ? Yes ; ’tis East Street ! how splendid 
and light it is ! But really it is terrible what an effect that 
one glass of punch must have had on me !” 

Two minutes later, he was sitting in a hackney-coach 
and driving to Frederickshafen. He thought of the dis- 
tress and agony he had endured, and praised from the very 
bottom of his heart the happy reality, — our own time, — 
which, with all its deficiencies, is yet much better than 
that in which, so much against his inclination, he had lately 
been. 


III. 

THE WATCHMAN’S ADVENTURE. 

“ Why, there is a pair of galoshes, as sure as I’m alive !” 
said the watchman, awaking from a gentle slumber. “ They 
belong no doubt to the lieutenant who lives over the way. 
They lie close to the door.” 

The worthy man was inclined to ring and deliver them 
at the house, for there was still a light in the window ; but 


22 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


he did not like disturbing the other people in their beds, 
and so he very considerately left the matter alone. 

“ Such a pair of shoes must be very warm and comfort- 
able,” said he ; “ the leather is so soft and supple.” They 
fitted his feet as though they had been made for him. 
“ ’Tis a curious world we live in, ’’continued he, soliloquiz- 
ing. “ There is the lieutenant, now, who might go quietly 
to bed if he chose, where no doubt he could stretch him- 
self at his ease ; but does he do it ? No ; he saunters up 
and down his room, because, probably, he has enjoyed too 
many of the good things of this world at his dinner. That’s 
a happy fellow ! he has neither an infirm mother, nor a 
whole troop of everlastingly hungry children to torment him. 
Every evening he goes to a party, where* his nice supper 
costs him nothing : would to God I could change with 
him ! how happy should I be !” 

While expressing his wish, the charm of the shoes, 
which he had put on, began to work; the watchman 
entered into the being and nature of the lieutenant. He 
stood in the handsomely furnished apartment, and held 
between his fingers a small sheet of rose-colored paper 
on which some verses were witten, — written indeed by the 
officer himself ; for who has not, at least once in his life, 


23 


THE WATCHMAN’S ADVENTURE. 

had a lyrical moment ? and if one then marks down one’s 
thoughts, poetry is produced. But here was written : 

OH, WERE I RICH! 

. “ Oh, were 1 rich !” Such was my wish, yea such 
When hardly three feet high, I longed for much. 

Oh, were I rich ! an officer were I, 

With sword and uniform and plume so high. 

And the time came — and officer was I ! 

But yet I grew not rich. Alas, poor me ! 

Have pity Thou, who all man’s wants dost see. 

I sat one evening sunk in dreams of bliss, 

A maid of seven years old gave me a kiss. 

I at that time was rich in poesy 

And tales of old, though poor as poor could be ; 

But all she asked for was this poesy. 

Then was I rich, but not in gold, poor me ! 

As Thou dost know, who all men’s hearts canst see. 

Oh, were I rich ! Oft ask I for this boon. 

The child grew up to womanhood full soon. 

She is so pretty, clever, and so kind : 

Oh, did she know what’s hidden in my mind ; — 

A tale of old. Would she to me were kind ! 

But I’m condemned to silence ; oh, poor me ! 

As Thou dost know, who all men’s hearts canst see. 

Oh, were I rich in calm and peace of mind, 

My grief you then would not here written find ! 

Oh thou, to whom I do my heart devote, 

Oh read this page of glad days now remote, 

A dark, dark tale, which I to night devote ! 

Dark is the future now. Alas, poor me ! 

Have pity Thou, who all men’s pains dost see. 


24 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


Such verses as these people write when they are in love ! 
but no man in his senses ever thinks of printing them. 
Here one of the sorrows of life, in which there is real 
poetry, gave itself vent ; not that barren grief which the 
poet may only hint at, but never depict in its detail — misery 
and want : that animal necessity, in short, to snatch at least 
at a fallen leaf of the bread-fruit tree, if not at the fruit 
itself. The higher the position in which one finds one’s 
self transplanted, the greater is the suffering. Every-day 
necessity is the stagnant pool of life; no lovely picture 
reflects itself therein. Lieutenant, love, and lack of money, 
that is a symbolic triangle, or much the same as the half 
of the shattered die of Fortune. This the lieutenant felt 
most poignantly, and this was the reason he leant his head 
against the window, and sighed so deeply. 

“ The poor watchman out there in the street is far hap- 
pier than I. He knows not what I term privation. He 
has a home, a wife, and children, who weep with him 
over his sorrows, who rejoice with him when he is glad. 
Oh, far happier were I, could I exchange with him my 
being, — w r ith his desires and with his hopes perform the 
weary pilgrimage of life ! oh, he is a hundred times hap- 
pier than I !” 

In the same moment the watchman was again watchman. 


THE WATCHMAN’S ADVENTURE. 25 

It was the shoes that caused the metamorphosis by means 
of which, unknown to himself, he took upon him the 
thoughts and feelings of the officer ; but, as we have just 
seen, he felt himself in his new situation much less con- 
tented, and now preferred the very thing which but some 
minutes before he had rejected. So then the watchman 
was again watchman. 

“That was an unpleasant dream,” said he; “but ’twas 
droll enough altogether. I fancied that I was the lieuten- 
ant over there ; and yet the thing was not very much to 
my taste after all. I missed my good old mother and the 
dear little ones, who almost tear me to pieces for sheer 
love.” 

He seated himself once more, and nodded : the dream 
continued to haunt him, for he still had the shoes on his 
feet. A falling star shone in the dark firmament. 

“There falls another star,” said he ; “ but what does it 
matter ; there are always enough left. I should not much 
mind examining the little glimmering things somewhat 
nearer, especially the moon : for that would not slip so 
easily through a man’s fingers. When we die — so at least 
says the student for whom my wife does the washing — we 
shall fly about as light as a feather from one such star to 
the other. That’s, of course, not true; but ’twould be 


26 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


pretty enough if it were so. If I could but once take a 
leap up there, my body might stay here on the steps for 
what I care.” 

Behold ! — there are certain things in the world to which 
one ought never to giver utterance, except with the great- 
est caution ; but doubly careful must one be when we have 
the Shoes of Fortune on our feet. Now just listen to what 
happened to the watchman. 

As to ourselves, we all know the speed produced by 
the employment of steam ; we have experienced it either 
on railroads, or in boats when crossing the sea ; but such 
a flight is like the travelling of a sloth in comparison with 
the velocity with which light moves. It flies nineteen 
million times faster than the best race-horse ; and yet 
electricity is quicker still. Death is an electric shock 
which our heart receives ; the freed soul soars upwards 
on the wings of electricity. The sun’s light wants eight 
minutes and some seconds to perform a journey of more 
than twenty million of our Danish* miles ; borne by elec- 
tricity, the soul wants even some minutes less to accom- 
plish the same flight. To it the space between the heav- 
enly bodies is not greater than the distance between the 
homes of our friends in town is for us, even if they live a 
* A Danish mile is nearly 1 English. 


• THE WATCHMAN^ ADVENTURE. 27 

short way from each other ; such an electric shock in the 
heart, however, costs us the use of the body here below ; 
unless, like the watchman of East Street, we happen to 
have on the Shoes of Fortune. 

In a few seconds the watchman had done the 52,000 of 
our miles up to the moon, which, as every one knows, was 
formed of matter much lighter than our earth ; and is, so 
we should say, as soft as newly-fallen snow. He found 
himself on one of the man)- circumjacent mountain-ridges 
with which we are acquainted by means of Dr. Madler's 
“ Map of the Moon.” Within, down it sunk perpendicu- 
larly into a caldron, about a Danish mile in depth ; while 
below lay a town, whose appearance we can, in some mea- 
sure, realize to ourselves by beating .the white of an egg 
in a glass of water. The matter of which it was built was 
just as soft, and formed similar towers, and domes, and 
pillars, transparent, and rocking in the thin air; while 
above his head our earth was rolling like a large fiery ball. 

He perceived immediately a quantity of beings who 
were certainly what we call “ men yet they looked dif- 
ferent to us. A far more correct imagination than that of 
the pseudo-IIerschel* had created them ; and if they had 

* This relates to a book published some years ago in Germany, and 
said to be by Herschel, which contained a description of the moon and 


28 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


been placed in rank and file, and copied by some skilful 
painter’s hand, one would, without doubt, have exclaimed 
involuntarily, “ What a beautiful arabesque !” They had 
a language too ; but surely nobody can expect that the 
soul of the watchman should understand it. Be that as it 
may, it did comprehend it ; for in our souls there germi- 
nate far greater powers than we poor mortals, despite all 
our cleverness, have any notion of. Does she not show 
us, — she the queen in the land of enchantment, — her as- 
tounding dramatic talent in all our dreams ? There every 
acquaintance appears and speaks upon the stage, so en- 
tirely in character, and with the same tone of voice, that 
none of us, when awake, were able to imitate it. How 
well can she recall persons to our mind, of whom we have 
not thought for years ; when suddenly they step forth 
“ every inch a man,” resembling the real personages, even 
to the finest features, and become the heroes or heroines 
of our world of dreams. In reality such remembrances 
are rather unpleasant : every sin, every evil thought, may, 
like a clock with alarm or chimes, be repeated at pleasure ; 
then the question is, if we can trust ourselves to give an 

its inhabitants, written with such a semblance of truth, that many 
were deceived by the imposture. — C. B. 


THE WATCHMAN S ADVENTURE. 


29 


account of every unbecoming word in our heart and on 
our lips. 

The watchman’s spirit understood the language of the 
inhabitants of the moon pretty well. The Selenites* dis- 
puted variously about our earth, and expressed their 
doubts if it could be inhabited : the air, they said, must 
certainly be too dense to allow any rational dweller in the 
moon the necessary free respiration. They considered 
the moon alone to be inhabited ; they imagined it was the 
real heart of the universe or planetary system, on which 
the genuine Cosmopolites, or citizens of the world, dwelt. 
What strange things men — no, what strange things Selen- 
ites sometimes take into their heads ! 

About politics they had a good deal to say. But little 
Denmark must take care what it is about, and not run 
counter to the moon; that great realm, that might in 
an ill-humor bestir itself, and dash down a hail-storm 
in our faces, or force the Baltic to overflow the sides of 
its gigantic basin. 

We will, therefore, not listen to what was spoken, and 
on no condition run the possibility of telling tales out of 
school ; but we will rather proceed, like good quiet citi- 


* Dwellers in the moon. 


30 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


zens, to East Street, and observe what happened mean- 
while to the body of the watchman. 

He sat lifeless on the steps : the morning-star,* that is 
to say, the heavy wooden staff, headed with iron spikes, 
and which had nothing else in common with its sparkling 
brother in the sky, had glided from his hand ; while his 
eyes were fixed with glassy stare on the moon, looking for 
the good old fellow of a spirit which still haunted it. 

“What’s the hour, watchman?” asked a passer-by. 
But when the watchman gave no reply, the merry roysterer, 
who was now returning home from a noisy drinking bout, 
took it into his head to try what a tweak of the nose would 
do ; on which the supposed sleeper lost his balance, the 
body lay motionless, stretched out on the pavement : the 
man was dead. When the patrol came up, all his com- 
rades, who comprehended nothing of the whole affair, were 
seized with a dreadful fright ; for dead he was, and he re- 
mained so. The proper authorities were informed of the 
circumstance, people talked a good deal about it, and in 
the morning the body was carried to the hospital. 

Now that would be a very pretty joke, if the spirit 

* The watchmen in Germany had formerly, and in some places 
they still carry with them on their rounds at night, a sort of mace or 
club, known in ancient times by the above denomination. — C. B. 


THE WATCHMAN’S ADVENTURE. 


31 


when it came back and looked for the body in East Street, 
were not to find one. No doubt it would, in its anxiety, 
run off to the police, and then to the “Hue and Cry ” 
office, to announce that “the finder will be handsomely 
rewarded,” and at last away to the hospital ; yet we may 
boldly assert, that tha soul is shrewdest when it shakes off 
every fetter, and every sort of leading-string, — the body 
only makes it stupid. 

The seemingly dead body of the watchman wandered, 
as we have said, to the hospital, where it was brought 
into the general viewing-room; and the first thing that 
was done here was naturally to pull off the galoshes — when 
the spirit, that was merely gone out on adventures, must 
have returned with the quickness of lightning to its earthly 
tenement. It took its direction towards the body in a 
straight line ; and a few seconds after, life began to show 
itself in the man. He asserted, that the preceding night 
had been the worst that ever the malice of fate had allotted 
him ; he would not for two silver marks again go through 
what he had endured while moon-stricken ; but now, how- 
ever, it was over. 

The same day he was discharged from the hospital as 
perfectly cured ; but the shoes meanwhile remained behind. 


32 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


IV. 

A MOMENT OF HEAD IMPORTANCE AN EVENING^ 

DRAMATIC READINGS” A MOST STRANGE JOURNEY. 

Every inhabitant of Copenhagen knows, from personal 
inspection, how the entrance to “Frederick’s Hospital” 
looks ; but as it is possible that others, who are not Co- 
penhagen people, may also read this little work, we will 
beforehand give a short description of it. 

The extensive building is separated from the street by 
a pretty high railing, the thick iron bars of which are so 
far apart, that in all seriousness, it is said, some very thin 
fellow had of a night occasionally squeezed himself through 
to go and pay his little visits Jn the town. The part of 
the body most difficult to manage on such occasions was, no 
doubt, the head ; here, as is so often the case in the world, 
long-headed people get through best. So much then for 
the introduction. 

One of the young men, whose head, in a physical sense 
only, might be said to be of the thickest, had the watch 
that evening. The rain poured down in torrents ; yet 
despite these two obstacles, the young man was obliged to 
go out, if it were but for a quarter of an hotir ; and as to 


AN EVENING’S “DRAMATIC READINGS. 33 

telling* the door-keeper about it, that, he thought, was 
quite unnecessary, if, with a whole skin, he were able to 
slip through the railings. There, on the floor, lay the 
galoshes, which the watchman had forgotten ; he never 
dreamed for a moment that they were those of Fortune ; 
and they promised to do him good service in the wet ; so 
he put them on. The question now was, if he could squeeze 
himself through the grating, for he had never tried before. 
Well, there he stood. 

“Would to God I had got my head through !” said he 
involuntarily ; and instantly through it slipped, easily and 
without pain, notwithstanding it was pretty large and 
thick. But now the rest of the body was to be got 
through ! 

“ Ah, I am much too stout !” groaned he aloud, while 
fixed as in a vice ; “ I had thought the head was the most 
difficult part of the matter : — oh ! oh ! I really cannot 
squeeze myself through !” 

He now wanted to pull his over-hasty head back again, 
but he could not. For his neck there was room enough, . 
but for nothing more. His first feeling was of anger ; his 
next, that his temper fell to zero. The Shoes of Fortune 
had placed him in the most dreadful situation ; and, unfor- 
tunately, it never occurred to him to wish himself free. 

3 


34 


the shoes of fortune. 


The pitch-black clouds poured down their contents in still 
heavier torrents ; not a creature was to be seen in the 
streets. To reach up to the bell was what he did not 
like ; to cry aloud for help would have availed him little ; 
besides, how ashamed would he have been to be found 
caught in a trap, like an outwitted fox ! How was he to 
twist himself through ? He saw clearly that it was his 
irrevocable destiny to remain a prisoner till dawn, or, 
perhaps, even till late in the morning; then the smith 
must be fetched to file away the bars ; but all that would 
not be done so quickly as he could think about it. The 
whole Charity School, just opposite, would be in mo- 
tion ; all the new booths, with their not very courtier-like 
swarm of seamen, would join them out of curiosity, and 
would greet him with a wild “hurrah!” while he was 
standing in his pillory : there would be a mob, a hissing, 
and rejoicing, and jeering, ten times worse than in the 
rows about the Jew's some years ago. “ Oh, my blood 
is mounting to my brain ! ’tis enough to drive one mad ! 
I shall go wild ! I know not what to do ! Oh, were I 
but loose ; my dizziness would then cease ! oh, were my 
head but loose !” 

You see he ought to have said that sooner; for the 
moment he expressed the wish his head was free ; and. 


AN EVENING’S “DRAMATIC READINGS.” 35 

cured of all his paroxysms of love, he hastened off to his 
room, where the pains consequent on the fright the Shoes 
had prepared for him, did not so soon take their leave. 

But you must not think that the affair is over now ; it 
grows much worse. 

The night passed, the next day also ; but nobody came 
to fetch the Shoes. 

In the evening “ Dramatic Readings” were to be given 
at the little theatre in King Street. The house was filled 
to suffocation ; and among other pieces to be recited was 
a new poem by H. C Andersen, called My Aunt's Spec- 
tacles; the contents of which were pretty nearly as follows : 
“ A certain person had an aunt, who boasted of particular 
skill in fortune-telling with cards, and who was constantly 
being stormed by persons that wanted to have a peep into 
futurity. But she was full of mystery about her art, in 
which a certain pair of magic- spectacles did her essential 
service. Her nephew, a merry boy, who was his aunt’s 
darling, begged so long for these spectacles, that, at last, 
she lent him the treasure, after having informed him, with 
many exhortations, that in order to execute the interesting 
trick, he need only to repair to some place where a great 
many persons were assembled ; and then, from a higher 
position, whence he could overlook the crowd, pass the 


36 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


company in review before him through his spectacles. 
Immediately ‘the inner man’ of each individual would be 
displayed before him, like a game of cards, in which he 
unerringly might read what the future of every person 
present was to be. Well pleased, the little magician 
hastened away to prove the powers of the spectacles in the 
theatre ; no place seeming to him more fitted for such a 
trial. He begged permission of the worthy audience, and 
set his spectacles on his nose. A motley phantasmagoria 
presents itself before him, which he describes in a few 
satirical touches, yet without expressing his opinion 
openly : he tells the people enough to set them all think- 
ing and guessing ; but in order to hurt nobody, he wraps 
his witty oracular judgments in a transparent veil, or 
rather in a lurid thunder-cloud, shooting forth bright 
sparks of wit, that they may fall in the powder-magazine 
of the expectant audience.” 

The humorous poem was admirably recited, and the 
speaker much applauded. Among the audience was the 
young man of the hospital, who seemed to have forgotten 
his adventure of the preceding night. He *had on the 
Shoes ; for as yet no lawful owner had appeared to claim 
them; and besides it was so very dirty out of doors, they 
were just the thing for him, he thought. 


AN EVENING^ “ DRAMATIC READINGS.” 37 

The beginning of the poem he praised with great gene- 
rosity ; he even found the idea original and effective. But 
that the end of it, like the Rhine, was very insignificant, 
proved, in his opinion, the author’s want of invention ; he 
was without genius, &c. &c. &c. This was an excellent 
opportunity to have said something clever. 

Meanwhile he was haunted by the idea, — he should like 
to possess such a pair of spectacles himself; then, per- 
haps, by using them circumspectly, one would be able to 
look into people’s hearts, which, he thought, would be far 
more interesting than merely to see what was to happen 
next year ; for that we should all know in proper time, but 
the other never. 

“I can now,” said he to himself, “ fancy the whole row 
of ladies and gentlemen sitting there in the front row ; if 
one could but see into their hearts ; — yes, that would be a 
revelation — a sort of bazaar. In that lady yonder, so 
strangely dressed, I should find for certain a large milliner’s 
shop ; in that one the shop is empty, but it wants cleaning 
plain enough. But there would also be some good stately 
shops among them. Alas!” sighed he, “I know one in 
which all is stately ; but there sits already a spruce young 
shopman, which is the only thing that’s amiss in the whole 
shop. All would be splendidly decked out, and we should 


38 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


hear, ‘ Walk in, gentlemen, pray walk in ; here you will 
find all you please to want/ Ah ! I wish to Heaven I 
could walk in and take a trip right through the hearts of 
those present !” 

And behold ! to the Shoes of Fortune this was the cue ; 
the whole man shrunk together, and a most uncommon 
journey through the hearts of the front row of spectators 
now began. The first heart through which he came was 
that of a middle-aged lady, but he instantly fancied him- 
self in the room of the “ Institution for the cure of the 
crooked and deformed,” where casts of misshapen limbs 
are displayed in naked reality on the wall. Yet there was 
this difference, in the institution the casts were taken at 
the entry of the patient ; but here they were retained and 
guarded in the heart while the sound persons went away. 
They were, namely, casts of female friends, whose bodily 
or mental deformities were here most faithfully preserved. 

With the snake-like writhings of an idea he glided into 
another female heart ; but this seemed to him like a large 
holy fane. The white dove of innocence fluttered over 
the altar. How gladly would he have sunk upon his 
knees ; but he must away to the next heart ; yet he still 
heard the pealing tones of the organ, and he himself 
seemed to have become a newer and a better man ; he felt 


A MOST STRANGE JOURNEY. 


39 


unworthy to tread the neighboring sanctuary which a poor 
garret, with a sick bed-rid mother, revealed. But God’s 
warm sun streamed through the opening window ; lovely 
roses nodded from the wooden flower-boxes on the roof, 
and two sky-blue birds sang rejoicingly, while the sick 
mother implored God’s richest blessings on her pious 
daughter. 

He now crept on hands and feet through a butcher’s 
shop ; at least on every side, and above and below, there 
was nought but flesh. It was the heart of a most respec- 
table rich man, whose name is certain to be found in the 
Directory. 

He was now in the heart of the wife of this worthy gen- 
tleman. It was an old dilapidated, mouldering dovecot. 
The husband’s portrait was used as a weathercock which 
was connected in some way or other with the doors, and so 
they opened and shut of their own accord, whenever the 
stern old husband turned round. 

Hereupon he wandered into a boudoir formed entirely of 
mirrors, like the one in Castle Rosenburg ; but here the 
glasses magnified to an astonishing degree. On the floor, 
in the middle of the room, sat, like a Dalai-Lama, the insig- 
nificant “ Self” of the person, quite confounded at his own 


40 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


greatness. He then imagined he had got into a needle-case 
full of pointed needles of every size. 

“This is certainly the heart of an old maid,” thought he. 
But he was mistaken. It was the heart of a young military 
man ; a man, as people said, of talent and feeling. 

In the greatest perplexity he now came out of the last 
heart in the row ; he was unable to put his thoughts in 
order, and fancied that his too lively imagination had run 
away with him. 

“ Good God !” sighed he ; “I have surely a disposition 
to madness — ’tis dreadfully hot here ; my blood boils in my 
veins, and my head is burning like a coal. And he now 
remembered the important event of the evening before, how 
his head had got jammed in between the iron railings of 
the hospital. “ That’s what it is no doubt,” said he, “ I 
must do something in time : under such circumstances a 
Russian bath might do me good. I only wish I were al- 
ready on the upper bank.”* 

And so there he lay on the uppermost bank in the vapor- 
bath ; but with all his clothes on, in his boots and ga- 

* In these Russian (vapor) baths the person extends himself on 
a bank or form, and as he gets accustomed to the heat, moves to 
another higher up towards the ceiling, where, of course, the vapor 
is warmest. In this manner he ascends gradually to the highest. 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 41 

loshes, while the hot drops fell scalding from the ceiling 
on his face. 

“ Holla !” cried he, leaping down. The bathing attend- 
ant, on his side, uttered a loud cry of astonishment when he 
beheld in the bath a man completely dressed. 

The other, however, retained sufficient presence of 
mind to whisper to him, “ ’Tis a bet, and I have won it !” 
But the first thing he did as soon as he got home, was to 
have a large blister put on his chest and back to draw out 
his madness. 

The next morning he had a sore chest and a bleeding 
back ; and, excepting the fright, that was all that he had 
gained by the Shoes of Fortune. 


y. 

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COYPING-CLERK. 

The watchman, whom we have certainly not forgotten, 
thought meanwhile of the galoshes he had found and taken 
with him to the hospital ; he now went to fetch them ; and 
as neither the lieutenant, nor any body else in the street. 


42 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


claimed them as his property, they were delivered over to 
the police office.* 

“Why, I declare the Shoes look just like my own,” said 
one of the clerks, eyeing the newly-found treasure, whose 
hidden powers even he, sharp as he was, was not able to 
discover. “ One must have more than the eye of a shoe- 
maker to know one pair from the other,” said he soliloquiz- 
ing ; and putting, at the same time, the galoshes in search 
of an owner beside his own in the corner. 

“ Here, sir !” said one of the men, who panting brought 
him a tremendous pile of papers. 

The copying-clerk turned round and spoke awhile with 
the man about the reports and legal documents in ques- 
tion ; but when he had finished, and his eye fell again on 
the Shoes, he was unable to say whether those to the left 
or those to the right belonged to him. “At all events it 
must be those which are wet,” thought he ; but this time, 
in spite of his cleverness, he guessed quite wrong, for it 
was just those of Fortune which played as it were into his 

* As on the continent in all law and police practices nothing is 
verbal, but any circumstance, however trifling, is reduced to writing, 
the labor, as well as the number of papers that thus accumulate, is 
enormous. In a police-office, consequently, we find copying-clerks 
among many other scribes of various denominations, of which, it 
seems, our hero was one. 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 43 


hands, or rather on his feet. And why, I should like to 
know, are the police never to be wrong ? So he put them 
on quickly, stuck his papers in his pocket, and took besides 
a few under his arm, intending to look them through at 
home to make the necessary notes. It was noon ; and the 
weather, that had threatened rain, began to clear up, while 
gayly-dressed holiday folks filled the streets. “ A little 
trip to Fredericksburg would do me no great harm,” 
thought he ; “ for I, poor beast of burden that I am, have 
so much to annoy me, that I don’t know what a good ap- 
petite is. ’Tis a bitter crust, alas ! at which I am con- 
demned to gnaw!” 

Nobody could be more steady or quiet than this young 
man ; we therefore wish him joy of the excursion with 
all our heart ; and it will certainly be beneficial for a 
person who leads so sedentary a life. In the park he 
met a friend, one of our young poets, who told him that 
the following day he should set out on his long-intended 
tour. 

“ So you are going away again !” said the clerk. “ You 
are a very free and happy being ; we others are chained by 
the leg and held fast to our desk.” 

“ Yes ; but it is a chain, friend, which insures you the 
blessed bread of existence,” answered the poet. “ You 


44 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


need feel no care for the coming morrow ; when you are 
old, you receive a pension.” 

“ True,” said the clerk, shrugging his shoulders ; “ and 
yet you are the better off. To sit at one’s ease and poet- 
ize — that is a pleasure ; every-body has something agree- 
able to say to you, and you are always your own master. 
No, friend, you should but try what it is to sit from one 
year’s end to the other occupied with and judging the 
most trivial matters.” 

The poet shook his head, the copying- clerk did the 
same. Each one kept to his own opinion, and so they 
separated. 

“ It’s a strange race, those poets !” said the clerk, who 
was very fond of soliloquizing. “I should like some day, 
just for a trial, to take such nature upon me, and be a 
poet myself : I am very sure I should make no such mis- 
erable verses as the others. To-day, methinks, is a most 
delicious day for a poet : Nature seems anew to celebrate 
her awakening into life. The air is so unusually clear, the 
clouds sail on so buoyantly, and from the green herbage a 
fragrance is exhaled that fills me with delight. For many, 
many a year have I not felt as at this moment.” 

We see already, by the foregoing effusion, that he is 
become a poet ; to give further proof of it, however, would 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 45 

in most cases be insipid, for it is a most foolish notion to 
fancy a poet different from other men. Among the latter 
there may be far more poetical natures than many an 
acknowledged poet, when examined more closely, could 
boast of ; the difference only is, that the poet possesses a 
better mental memory, on which account he is able to re- 
tain the feeling and the thought till they can be embodied 
by means of words ; a faculty which the others do not 
possess. But the transition from a commonplace nature 
to one that is richly endowed, demands always a more or 
less break-neck leap over a certain abyss which yawns 
threateningly below ; and thus must the sudden change 
with the clerk strike the reader. 

“The sweet air!” continued he of the police-office, in 
his dreamy imaginings ; “ how it reminds me of the violets 
in the garden of my aunt Magdalena ! Yes, then I was 
a little wild boy, who did not go to school very regularly. 
O heavens ! ’tis a long time since I have thought on those 
times. The good old soul ! She lived behind the Ex- 
change. She always had a few twigs or green shoots in 
water — let the winter rage without as it might. The vio- 
lets exhaled their sweet breath, whilst I pressed against 
the window-panes, covered with fantastic frost-work, the 
copper coin I had heated on the stove, and so made peep- 


46 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


holes. What splendid vistas were then opened to my 
view ! What change, — what magnificence ! Yonder in the 
canal lay the ships frozen up, and deserted by their whole 
crews, with a screaming crow for the sole occupant. But 
when the spring, with a gentle stirring motion, announced 
her arrival, a new and busy life arose ; with songs and 
hurrahs the ice was sawed asunder, the ships were fresh 
tarred and rigged, that they might sail away to distant 
lands. But I have remained here, — must always remain 
here, sitting at my desk in the office, and patiently see 
other people fetch their passports to go abroad. Such is 
my fate ! Alas !” — sighed he, and was again silent. 
“ Great heaven ! what is come to me ! never have I 
thought or felt like this before ! It must be the summer- 
air that affects me with feelings almost as disquieting as 
they are refreshing.” He felt in his pocket for the papers. 
“ These police-reports will soon stem the torrent of my 
ideas, and effectually hinder any rebellious overflowing of 
the time-worn banks of official duties he said to himself 
consolingly, while his eye ran over the first page. “ Dame 
Tigbrith, tragedy in five acts.” “What is that? And 
yet it is undeniably my own handwriting. Have I written 
the tragedy ? Wonderful, very wonderful ! — And this, — 
what have I here? ‘Intrigue on the Ramparts; or. 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 47 

The Day of Repentance : vaudeville with new songs to 
the most favorite airs !’ The deuce ! where did I get all 
this rubbish? Some one must have slipped it slyly into 
my pocket for a joke. There is too a letter to me ; a 
crumpled letter and the seal broken.” 

Yes, it was a not very polite epistle from the manager 
of a theatre, in which both pieces were flatly refused. 

“ Hem ! hem !” said the clerk breathlessly, and quite 
exhausted he seated himself on a bank. His thoughts 
were so elastic, his heart so tender ; and involuntarily he 
picked one of the nearest flowers. It is a simple daisy, 
just bursting out of the bud. What the botanist tells us 
after a number of imperfect lectures, the flower proclaimed 
in a minute. It related the mythus of its birth, told of 
the power of the sun-light that spread out its delicate 
leaves, and forced them to impregnate the air with thEir 
incense ; — and then he thought of the manifold struggles 
of life, which in like manner awaken the budding flowers 
of feeling in our bosom. Light and air contend with 
chivalric emulation for the love of the fair flower that 
bestowed her chief favors on the latter ; full of longing 
she turned towards the light, and as soon as it vanished, 
rolled her tender leaves together and slept in the embraces 
of the air. “ It is the light which adorns me,” said the 


48 THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 

flower. “ But ’tis the air which enables thee to breathe,” 
said the poet’s voice. 

Close by stood a boy who dashed his stick into a wet 
ditch. The drops of water splashed up to the green leafy 
roof, and the clerk thought of the million of ephemera 
which in a single drop were thrown up to a height, that 
was as great doubtless for their size, as for us if we were 
to be hurled above the clouds. While he thought of this 
and of the whole metamorphosis he had undergone, he 
smiled and said, “ I sleep and dream ; but it is wonderful 
how one can dream so naturally, and know besides so ex- 
actly that it is but a dream. If only to-morrow on awak- 
ing, I could again call all to mind so vividly ! I seem in 
unusually good spirits ; my perception of things is clear, 
I feel as light and cheerful as though I were in heaven ; 
but I know for a certainty, that if to-morrow a dim re- 
membrance of it should swim before my mind, it then will 
seem nothing but stupid nonsense, as I have often experi- 
enced already — especially before I enlisted under the ban- 
ner of the police, for that dispels like a whirlwind all the 
visions of an unfettered imagination. All we hear or say 
in a dream that is fair and beautiful is like the gold of the 
subterranean spirits; it is rich and splendid when it is 
given us, but viewed by daylight we find only withered 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 49 

leaves. “ Alas !” he sighed quite sorrowful, and gazed at 
the chirping birds that hopped contentedly from branch 
to branch, “they are much better off than I ! To fly must 
be a heavenly art ; and happy do I prize that creature in 
which it is innate. Yes ! could I exchange my nature 
with any other creature, I fain would be such a happy lit- 
tle lark !” 

He had hardly uttered these hasty words, when the 
skirts and sleeves of his coat folded themselves together 
into wings ; the clothes became feathers, and the galoshes 
claws. He observed it perfectly, and laughed in his heart. 
“Now then, there is no doubt that I am dreaming; but 
I never before was aware of such mad freaks as these.” 
And up he flew into the green roof and sang ; but in the 
song there was no poetry, for the spirit of the poet was 
gone. The Shoes, as is the case with any body who does 
what he has to do properly, could only attend to one thing 
at a time. He wanted to be a poet, and he was one;, he 
now wished to be a merry chirping bird ; but when he was 
metamorphosed into one, the former peculiarities ceased 
immediately. “It is really pleasant enough,” said he: 
“ the whole day long I sit in the office amid the driest law- 
papers, and at night I fly in my dream as a lark in the 
gardens of Fredericksburg ; one might really write a very 

4 


50 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


pretty comedy upon it.” He now fluttered down into the 
grass, turned his head gracefully on every side, and with 
his bill pecked the pliant blades of grass, which, in com- 
parison to his present size, seemed as majestic as the palm- 
branches of northern Africa. 

Unfortunately the pleasure lasted but a moment. Pres- 
ently black night overshadowed our enthusiast, who had 
so entirely missed his part of copying- clerk at a police- 
office; some vast object seemed to be thrown over him. 
It was a large oil-skin cap, which a sailor- boy of the quay 
had thrown over the struggling bird ; a coarse hand sought 
its way carefully in under the broad rim, and seized the 
clerk over the back and wings. In the first moment of 
fear, he called, indeed, as loud as he could — “ You im- 
pudent little blackguard ! I am a copying-clerk at the 
police-office ; and you know you cannot insult any belong- 
ing to the constabulary force without a chastisement. 
Besides, you good-for-nothing rascal, it is strictly forbidden 
to catch birds in the royal gardens of Fredericksburg; 
but your blue uniform betrays where you come from.” 
This fine tirade sounded, however, to the ungodly sailor-boy 
like a mere “ Pip-pi-pi.” He gave the noisy bird a knock 
on his beak, and walked on. 

He was soon met by two school-boys of the upper class. 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 51 

— that is to say, as individuals, for with regard to learning 
they were in the lowest class in the school ; and they 
bought the stupid bird. So the copying-clerk came to 
Copenhagen as guest, or rather as prisoner, in a family 
living in Gother Street. 

“ ’Tis well that I’m dreaming” said the clerk, “ or I 
really should get angry. First, I was a poet ; now sold 
for a few pence as a lark ; no doubt it was that accursed 
poetical nature which has metamorphosed me into such a 
poor harmless little creature. It is really pitiable, particu- 
larly when one gets into the hands of a little blackguard, 
perfect in all sorts of cruelty to animals : all I should like 
to know is, how the story will end.” 

The two school-boys, the proprietors now of the trans- 
formed clerk, earned him into an elegant room. A stout, 
stately dame received them with a smile; but she ex- 
pressed much dissatisfaction that a common field-bird, as 
she called the lark, should appear in such high society. 
For to-day, however, she would allow it ; and they must 
shut him in the empty cage that was standing in the win- 
dow. “Perhaps he will amuse my good Polly,” added 
the lady, looking with a benignant smile at a large green 
parrot that swung himself backwards and forwards most 
comfortably in his ring, inside a magnificent brass-wired 


52 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


cage. “ To-day is Polly’s birthday,” said she with stupid 
simplicity ; “ and the little brown field-bird must wish him 

j°y-” 

Mr. Polly uttered not a syllable in reply, but swung to 
and fro with dignified condescension ; while a pretty 
canary, as yellow as gold, that had lately been brought 
from his sunny fragrant home, began to sing aloud. 

“ Noisy creature ! will you be quiet !” screamed the 
lady of the liotise, covering the cage with an embroidered 
white pocket-handkerchief. 

“ Chirp, chirp !” sighed he ; “ that was a dreadful snow- 
storm and he sighed again, and was silent. 

The copying- clerk, or, as the lady said, the brown field- 
bird, was put into a small cage, close to the canary, and 
not far from “ my good Polly.” The only human sounds 
that the parrot could bawl out were, “ Come, let us be 
men !” Every thing else that he said was as unintelligible 
to every-body as the chirping of the canary, except to the 
clerk, who was now a bird too : he understood his com- 
panion perfectly. 

“ I flew about beneath the green palms and the blossom- 
ing almond-trees,” sang the canary ; “ I flew around, with 
my brothers and sisters, over the beautiful flowers, and 
over the glassy lakes, where the bright water-plants nodded 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COrYING-CLERK. 53 

to me from below. There, too, I saw many splendidly- 
dressed paroquets, that told the drollest stories, and the 
wildest fairy-tales without end.” 

“ Oh ! those were uncouth birds,” answered the parrot. 
“ They had no education, and talked of whatever came 
into their head. If my mistress and all her friends can 
laugh at what I say, so may you too, I should think. It 
is a great fault to have no taste for what is witty or 
amusing : — come, let us be men.” 

“ Ah, have you no remembrance of love for the charm- 
ing maidens that danced beneath the outspread tents beside 
the bright fragrant flowers ? Do you no longer remember 
the sweet fruits, and the cooling juice in the wild plants 
of our never-to-be-forgotten home ?” said the former in- 
habitant of the Canary Isles, continuing his dithyrambic. 

“Oh, yes,” said the Parrot, “but I am far better off 
here. I am well fed, and get friendly treatment. I know 
I am a clever fellow ; and that is all I care about. Come, 
let us be men. You are of a poetical nature, as it is 
called, — I, on the contrary, possess profound knowledge 
and inexhaustible wit. You have genius ; but clear-sighted 
calm discretion does not take such lofty flights, and utter 
such high natural tones. For this they have covered you 
over, — they never do the like to me; for I cost more. 


54 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


Besides, they are afraid of my beak ; and I have always a 
witty answer at hand. Come, let us be men !” 

“ 0 warm, spicy land of my birth,” sang the Canary- 
bird ; “ I will sing of thy dark-green bowers, of the calm 
bays where the pendant boughs kiss the surface of the 
water ; I will sing of the rejocings of my brothers and sis- 
ters where the cactus grows in wanton luxuriance.” 

“ Spare us your elegiac tones,” said the Parrot giggling. 
“ Rather speak of something at which one may laugh hear- 
tily. Laughing is an infallible sign of the highest degree 
of mental development. Can a dog or a horse laugh ? No, 
but they can cry. The gift of laughing was given to man 
alone. Ha ! ha ! ha !” screamed Polly, and added his ste- 
reotype witticism, “ come, let us be men 1” 

“ Poor little Danish gray-bird,” said the Canary ; “ you 
have been caught too. It is, no doubt, cold enough in your 
woods, but there at least is the breath of liberty ; therefore 
fly away. In the hurry they have forgotten to shut your 
cage, and the upper window is open. Fly, my friend ; fly 
away. Farewell !” 

Instinctively the Clerk obeyed ; with a few strokes of 
his wings he was out of the cage ; but at the same mo- 
ment the door, which was only ajar, and which led to the 
next room, began to creak, and supple and creeping came 


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE COPYING-CLERK. 55 


the large tom-cat into the room, and began to pursue him. 
The frightened Canary fluttered about in his cage ; the 
Parrot flapped his wings, and cried, “ Come, let us be men !” 
The Clerk felt a mortal fright, and flew through the window, 
far away over the houses and streets. At last he was forced 
to rest a little. 

The neighboring house had a something familiar about 
it : a window stood open, he flew in ; it was his own room. 
He perched upon the table. 

“ Come, let us he men !” said he, involuntarily imitating 
the chatter of the Parrot, and at the same moment he was 
again a copying-clerk ; but he was sitting in the middle of 
the table. 

“ God help me !” cried he. “ How did I get up here, — 
and so buried in sleep, too ? After all, that was a very 
unpleasant disagreeable dream that haunted me ! The 
whole story is nothing but silly stupid nonsense !” 


56 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


VJ. 

THE BEST THAT THE GALOSHES GAVE. 

The following day, early in the morning, while the Clerk 
was still in bed, some one knocked at his door. It was his 
neighbor, a young Divine, who lived on the same floor. 
He walked in. 

“Lend me your Galoshes,” said he; “it is so wet in 
the garden, though the sun is shining most invitingly. I 
should like to go out a little. ” 

He got the Galoshes, and he was soon below in a little 
duodecimo garden, where between two immense walls a 
plum-tree and an apple-tree were standing. Even such a 
little garden as this was considered in the metropolis of 
Copenhagen as a great luxury. 

The young man wandered up and down the narrow 
paths, as well as the prescribed limits would allow ; the 
clock struck six ; without was heard the horn of a post- 
boy. 

“ To travel ! To travel !” exclaimed he, overcome by 
most painful and passionate remembrances ; “ that is the 
happiest thing in the world ! that is the highest aim of all 
my wishes ! Then at last would the agonizing restlessness 


THE BEST THAT THE GALOSHES GAVE. 


57 


be allayed which destroys my existence ! But it must be 
far, far away! I would behold magnificent Switzerland; I 

would travel to Italy, and ” 

It was a good thing that the power of the Galoshes 
worked as instantaneously as lightning in a powder-mag- 
azine would do, otherwise the poor man with his over- 
strained wishes would have travelled about the world too 
much for himself as well as for us. In short, he was trav- 
elling. He was in the middle of Switzerland, but packed 
up with eight other passengers in the inside of an eternally- 
creaking diligence ; his head ached till it almost split, his 
wearied neck could hardly bear the heavy load, and his 
feet, pinched by his torturing boots, were terribly swollen. 
He was in an intermediate state bétween sleeping and 
waking ; at variance with himself, with his company, with 
the country, and with the government. In his right pocket 
he had his letter of credit, in the left his passport, and in a 
small leathern purse some double louis-d’or, carefully sewn 
up in the bosom of his waistcoat. Every dream proclaimed 
that one or the other of these valuables was lost ; where- 
fore he started up as in a fever ; and the first movement 
which his hand made, described a magic triangle from the 
right pocket to the left, and then up towards the bosom, to 
feel if he had them all safe or not. From the roof inside 


58 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


the carriage, umbrellas, walking-sticks, hats, and sundry 
other articles, were depending, and hindered the view, which 
was particularly imposing. He now endeavored, as well 
as he was able to dispel his gloom, which was caused by 
outward chance circumstances merely, and on the bosom 
of nature imbibe the milk of purest human enjoyment. 

Grand, solemn, and dark was the whole landscape around. 
The gigantic pine forests on the pointed crags seemed al- 
most like tufts of heather, colored by the surrounding 
clouds. It began to snow, a cold wind blew and roared as 
though it were seeking a bride. 

“ Augh !” sighed he, “ were we only on the other side 
the Alps, then we should have summer, and I could get 
my letters of credit cashed. The anxiety I feel about them 
prevents me enjoying Switzerland. Were I but on the 
other side !” 

And so saying he was on the other side in Italy, be- 
tween Florence and Rome. Lake Thracymene, illumined 
by the evening sun, lay like flaming gold between the dark- 
blue mountain ridges ; here, where Hannibal defeated Fla- 
mini us, the rivers now r held each other in their green em- 
braces ; lovely, half-naked children tended a herd of black 
swine, beneath a group of fragrant laurel-trees, hard by the 
road-side. Could we render this inimitable picture prop- 


THE BEST THAT THE GALOSHES GAVE. 59 

erly, then would every-body exclaim, u Beautiful unparal- 
leled Italy !” But neither the young Divine said so, nor 
any one of his grumbling companions in the coach of the 
vetturino. 

The poisonous flies and gnats swarmed around by thou- 
sands ; in vain one waved myrtle-branches about like mad ; 
the audacious insect population did not cease to sting ; nor 
was there a single person in the well-crammed carriage, 
whose face was • not swollen and sore from their ravenous 
bites. The poor horses, tortured almost to death, suffered 
most from this truly Egyptian plague ; the flies alighted 
upon them in large disgusting swarms ; and if the coach- 
man got down and scraped them off, hardly a minute 
elapsed before they were there again. The sun now set ; 
a freezing cold, though of short duration, pervaded the 
whole creation ; it was like a horrid gust coming from a 
burial-vault on a warm summer’s day, — but all around the 
mountains retained that wonderful green tone which we 
see in some old pictures, and which, should we not have 
seen a similar play of color in the South, we declare at 
once to be unnatural. It was a glorious prospect ; but 
the stomach was empty, the body tired : all that the heart 
cared and longed for was good night-quarters ; yet how 
would they be ? For these one looked much more anx- 


60 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


iously than for the charms of nature, which everywhere 
were so profusely displayed. 

The road led through an olive-grove, and here the soli- 
tary inn was situated. Ten or twelve crippled beggars 
had encamped outside. The healthiest of them resembled, 
to use an expression of Marryat’s, “ Hunger’s eldest son 
when he had come of age the others were either blind, 
had withered legs and crept about on their hands, or 
withered arms and fingerless hands. It was the most 
wretched misery, dragged from among the filthiest rags. 
“ Eccellenza, miserabili !” sighed they, thrusting forth their 
deformed limbs to view. Even the hostess, with bare 
feet, uncombed hair, and dressed in a garment of doubtful 
color, received the guests grumblingly. The doors were 
fastened with a loop of string ; the floor of the rooms pre- 
sented a stone paving half torn up ; bats fluttered wildly 
about the ceiling; and as to the smell therein — no — that, 
was beyond description. 

“You had better lay the cloth below in the stable,” 
said one of the travellers ; “ there, at all events, one knows 
what one is breathing.” 

The windows were quickly opened, to let in a little 
fresh air. Quicker, however, than the breeze, the withered 
sallow arms of the beggars were thrust in, accompanied by 


THE BEST THAT THE GALOSHES GAVE. 


61 


the eternal whine of “ Miserabili, miserabili, eccellenza!” 
On the walls were displayed innumerable inscriptions, 
written in nearly every language of Europe, some in verse, 
some in prose, most of them not very laudatory of “ bella 
Italia.” 

The meal was served. It consisted of a soup of salted 
water, seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. The last in- 
gredient played a very prominent part in the salad ; stale 
eggs and roasted cocks-combs furnished the grand dish of 
the repast ; the wine even was not without a disgusting 
taste, — it was like a medicinal draught. 

At night the boxes and other effects of the passengers 
were placed against the ricketty doors. One of the trav- 
ellers kept watch, while the others slept. The sentry was 
our young Divine. How close it was in the chamber! 
The heat oppressive to suffocation, — the gnats hummed 
and sung unceasingly, — the “ miserabili ” without whined 
and moaned in their sleep. 

“ Travelling would be agreeable enough,” said he groan- 
ing, “ if one only had no body, or could send it to rest 
while the spirit went on its pilgrimage unhindered, whither 
the voice within might call it. Wherever I go, I am pur- 
sued by a longing that is insatiable, — that I cannot explain 
to myself, and that tears my very heart. I want some- 


62 


THE SHOES OF FORTUNE. 


thing better than what is but momentary, — than what is 
fled in an instant. But what is it, and where is it to be 
found ? Yet, I know in reality what it is I wish for. Oh ! 
most happy were I, could I but reach one aim, — could but 
reach the happiest of all !” 

And as he spoke the word he was again in his home: 
the long white curtains hung down from the windows, and 
in the middle of the floor stood the black coffin ; — in it he 
lay in the sleep of death. His wish was fulfilled ; — the 
body rested, while the spirit went unhindered on its pil- 
grimage. “ Let no one deem himself happy before his 
end,” were the words of Solon ; and here was a new and 
brilliant proof of the wisdom of the old apophthegm. 

Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality ; here too on 
the black coffin the sphinx gave us no answer to what he 
who lay within had written two days before : 

“ O mighty Death ! thy silence teaches nought, 

Thou leadest only to the near grave’s brink j 

Is broken now the ladder of my thoughts 'l 
Do I instead of mounting only sink ? 

Our heaviest grief the world oft seeth not, 

Our sorest pain we hide from stranger eyes ; 

And for the sufferer there is nothing left 

But the green mound that o’er the coffin lies.” 

Two figures were moving in the chamber. We know 


THE BEST THAT THE GALOSHES GAVE. 63 

them both : it was the fairy of Care and the emissary of 
Fortune. They both bent over the corpse. 

“Do you now see,” said Care, “what happiness your 
Galoshes have brought to mankind ?”• 

“ To him, at least, who slumbers here, they have brought 
an imperishable blessing,” answered the other. 

“Ah no!” replied Care, “he took his departure himself; 
he was not called away. His mental powers here below 
were not strong enough to reach the treasures lying beyond 
this life, and which his destiny ordained he should obtain. 
I will now confer a benefit on him.” 

And she took the Galoshes from his feet : his sleep of 
death was ended ; and he who had been thus called back 
again to life arose from his dread couch in all the vigor of 
youth. Care vanished, and with her the Galoshes. She 
has no doubt taken them for herself, to keep them to all 
eternity. 


THE FIR-TREE. 


OUT in the woods stood a nice little Fir-tree. The 
place he had was a very good one : the sun shone on him ; 
as to fresh air, there was enough of that, and round him 
grew many large-sized comrades, pines as well as firs. 
But the little Fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up 
tree. 

He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air ; 
he did not care for the little cottage-children that ran 
about and prattled when they were in the woods looking 
for wild strawberries. The children often came with a 
whole pitcher full of berries, or a long row of them 
threaded on a straw, and sat down near the young tree 
and said, “Oh, how pretty he is! what a nice little fir!” 
But this was what the tree could not bear to hear. 

At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and 
after another year he was another long bit taller; for with 
fir-trees one can always tell by the shoots how many years 
old they are. 

“ Oh ! were I but such a high tree as the others are,” 


























































* 






















• • - 

































































































THE FIR-TREE. 


65 


sighed he. “Then I should be able to spread out my 
branches, and with the tops to look into the wide world ! 
Then would the birds build nests among my branches; 
and when there was a breeze, I could bend with as much 
stateliness as the others !” 

Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds 
which morning and evening sailed above him, gave the 
little tree any pleasure. 

In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, 
a hare would often come leaping along, and jump right 
over the little tree. Oh, that made him so angry! But 
two winters were past, and in the third the tree was so 
large that the hare was obliged to go round it. “To grow 
and grow, to get older and be tall,” thought the Tree, — 
“that, after all, is the most delightful thing in the world!” 

In autumn the wood-ciftters always came and felled 
some of the largest trees. This happened every year; 
and the young Fir-tree, that had now grown to a very 
comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificent 
great trees fell to the earth with noise and cracking, the 
branches were lopped off, and the trees looked long and 
bare : they were hardly to be recognized ; and then they 
were laid in carts, and the horses dragged them out of the 
wood. 5 


66 


THE FIR-TREE. 


Where did they go to ? What became of them ? 

In the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, 
the Tree asked them, “ Don’t you know where they have 
been taken? Have you not met them any where?” 

The swallows did not know any thing about it ; but the 
Stork looked musing, nodded his head, and said : “Yes, I 
think I know ; I met many ships as I was flying hither 
from Egypt ; on the ships were magnificent masts, and I 
venture to assert that it was they that smelt so of fir. I 
may congratulate you, for they lifted themselves on high 
most majestically!” 

" Oh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea ! But 
how does the sea look in reality ? What is it like?” 

“That would take a long time to explain,” said the 
Stork ; and with these words off he went. 

“Rejoice in thy growth !” Said the Sunbeams; rejoice 
in thy vigorous growth, and in the fresh life that moveth 
within thee !” 

And the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears 
over him ; but the Fir understood it not. 

When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down ; 
trees which often were not even as large, or of the same 
age as this Fir-tree, who could never rest, but always 
wanted to be off. These young trees, and they were 


THE FIR-TREE. 


67 


always the finest looking, retained their branches ; they 
were laid on carts, and the horses drew them out of the 
wood* 

“ Where are they going to ?” asked the Fir. “ They 
are not taller than I ; there was one indeed that was 
considerably shorter and why do they retain all their 
branches ? Whither are they taken ?” 

“ We know ! we know !” chirped the Sparrows. “ We 
have peeped in at the windows in the town below ! We 
know whither they are taken ! The greatest splendor and 
the greatest magnificence one can imagine awith them. 
We peeped through the windows, and saw them planted 
in the middle of the warm room, and ornamented with 
the most splendid things, with gilded apples, with ginger- 
bread, with toys, and many hundred lights !” 

“ And then ?” asked the Fir-tree, trembling in every 
bough. “ And then ? What happens then ?” 

“ We did not see any thing more : it was incomparably 
beautiful.” 

“ I would fain know if I am destined for so glorious 
a career,” cried the Tree, rejoicing. “That is still better 
than to cross the sea ! What a longing do I suffer ! Were 
Christmas but come ! I am now tall, and my branches 
spread like the others that were carried off last year ! 


68 


THE FIR-TREE. 


Oh ! were I but already on the cart ! Were I in the warm 
room with all the splendor and magnificence ! Yes; then 
something better, something still grander, will surely fol- 
low, or wherefore should they thus ornament me ? Some- 
thing better, something still grander must follow, — but 
what ? Oh, how I long, how I suffer ! I do not know 
myself what is the matter with me!” 

“ Rejoice in our presence ! ” said the Air and the Sun- 
light ; “ rejoice in thy own fresh youth !” 

But the Tree did not rejoice at all ; he grew and grew, 
and was green both winter and summer. People that saw 
him said, “ What a fine tree !” and towards Christmas he 
was one of the first that was cut down. The axe struck 
deep into the very pith ; the tree fell to the earth with a 
sigh : he felt a pang, — it was like a swoon ; he could not 
think of happiness, for he was sorrowful at being sepa- 
rated from his home, from the place where he had sprung 
up. He well knew that he should never see his dear old 
comrades, the little bushes and flowers around him, any 
more ; perhaps not even the birds ! The departure was 
not at all agreeable. 

The Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded 
in a court- yard with the other trees, and heard a man 
say, “ That one is splendid ! we don’t want the others.” 


THE FIR-TREE. 


69 


Then two servants came in rich livery, and carried the 
fir-tree into a large and splendid drawing-room. Portraits 
were hanging on the walls, and near the white porcelain 
stove stood two large Chinese vases with lions on the 
covers. There, too, were large easy-chairs, silken sofas, 
large tables full of picture-books and full of toys, worth 
hundreds and hundreds of crowns, — at least the children 
said so. And the Fir-tree was stuck upright in a cask 
that was filled with sand ; but no one could see that it 
was a cask, for green cloth was bung all round it, and it 
stood on a large gayly-colored carpet. Oh ! how the tree 
quivered ! What was to happen ? The servants, as well 
as the young ladies, decorated it. On one branch there 
hung little nets cut out of colored paper, and each not 
was filled with sugar-plums ; and among the other boughs 
gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, looking as 
though they had grown there, and little blue and white 
tapers were placed among the leaves. Dolls that looked 
for all the world like men — the Tree had never beheld 
such before — were seen among the foliage, and at the 
very top a large star of gold tinsel was fixed. It was 
really splendid, — beyond description splendid. 

“ This evening !” said they all, “ how it will shine this 
evening !” 


70 


THE FIR-TREE. 


“Oh!” thought the Tree, “if the evening were but 
come ! If the tapers were but lighted ! And then I won- 
der what will happen ! Perhaps the other trees from the 
forest will come to look at me ! Perhaps the sparrows 
will beat against the window-panes ! I wonder ' if I shall 
take root here, and winter and summer stand covered with 
ornaments !” 

He knew very much about the matter ! — but he was so 
impatient, that for sheer longing he got a pain in his 
back, and this with trees is the same thing as a headache 
with us. 

The candles were now lighted. — What brightness ! 
What splendor! The Tree trembled so in every bough, 
that one of the tapers set fire to the foliage. It blazed up 
famously. 

“ Help ! help !” cried the young ladies, and they quickly 
put out the fire. 

Now the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a state 
he was in ! He was so uneasy lest he should lose some- 
thing of his splendor, that he was quite bewildered amidst 
the glare and brightness ; when suddenly both folding- 
doors opened, and a troop of children rushed in as if they 
would upset the Tree. The older persons followed quietly ; 
the little ones stood quite still. But it was only for a 


THE FIR-TREE. 


71 


moment ; then they shouted that the whole place re-echoed 
with their rejoicing ; they danced round the Tree, and one 
present after the other was pulled off. 

“What are they about?” thought the Tree. “What 
is to happen now ?” And the lights burned down to the 
very branches ; and as they burned down, they were put 
out one after the other, and then the children had per- 
mission to plunder the Tree. So they fell upon it with 
such violence that all its branches cracked ; if it had not 
been fixed firmly in the ground, it would certainly have 
tumbled down. 

The children danced about with their beautiful play- 
things : no one looked at the Tree except the old nurse, 
who peeped between the branches; but it was only to 
see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been for- 
gotten. 

“ A story ! a story !” cried the children, drawing a little 
fat man towards the Tree. He seated himself under it, 
and said, “ Now we are in the shade, and the Tree can 
listen too. But I shall tell only one story. Now which 
will you have ; that about Ivedy-Avedy, or about Humpy- 
Dumpy, who tumbled down stairs, and yet after all came 
to the throne, and married the princess ?” 

“Ivedy-Avedy,” cried some; “Humpy-Dumpy,” cried 


72 


THE FIR-TREE. 


the others. There was such a bawling and screaming ! — 
the Fir-tree alone was silent, and he thought to himself, 
“ Am I not to bawl with the rest ? — am I to do nothing 
whatever?” for he was one of the company, and had done 
what he had to do. 

And the man told about Humpy-Dumpy that tumbled 
down, who notwithstanding came to the throne, and at 
last married the princess. And the children clapped their 
hands, and cried out, “ Oh, go on ! Do go on !” They 
-wanted to hear about Ivedy-Avedy too, but the little man 
only told them about Humpy-Dumpy. The Fir-tree stood 
quite still and absorbed in thought : the birds in the wood 
had never related the like of this. *•' Humpy-Dumpy fell 
down stairs, and yet he married the princess! Yes, yes! 
that’s the way of the world !” thought the Fir-tree, and 
believed it all, because the man who told the story was 
so good-looking. “ Well, -well ! who knows, perhaps I 
may fall down stairs too, and get a princess as wife !” 
And he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he 
hoped to be decked out again with lights, playthings, 
fruits, and tinsel. 

“ I won’t tremble to-morrow !” thought the Fir-tree. 
“ I will enjoy to the full all my splendor ! To-morrow I 
shall hear again the story of Humpy-Dumpy, and perhaps 


THE FIR-TREE. 


73 


that of Ivedy-Avedy too.” And the whole night the Tree 
stood still and in deep thought. 

In the morning the servant and the housemaid came in. 

“Now then the splendor will begin again,” thought the 
Fir. But they dragged him out of the room, and up the 
stairs into the loft ; and here in a dark corner, where no 
daylight could enter, they left him. “ What’s the mean- 
ing of this ?” thought the Tree. “ What am I to do 
here? What shall I hear now, I wonder?” And he 
leaned against the wall lost in reverie. Time enough had 
he too for his reflections ; for days and nights passed on, 
and nobody came up ; and when at last somebody did 
come, it was only to put some great trunks in a corner, 
out of the way. There stood the Tree quite hidden; it 
seemed as if he had been entirely forgotten. 

“ ’Tis now winter out of doors !” thought the Tree. 
“ The earth is hard and covered with snow ; men cannot 
plant me now, and therefore I have been put up here 
under shelter till the spring-time comes ! How thought- 
ful that is ! How kind man is, after all ! If it only were 
not so dark here, and so terribly’' lonely ! Not even a 
hare ! And out in the woods it was so pleasant, when the 
snow was on the ground, and the hare leaped by ; yes — 


74 


THE FIR-TREE. 


even when he jumped over me ; but I did not like it then ! 
It is really terribly lonely here !” 

“Squeak! squeak!” said a little Mouse at the same 
moment, peeping out of his hole. And then another little 
one came. They snuffed about the Fir-tree, and rustled 
among the branches. 

“ It is dreadfully cold,” said the Mouse. “ But for 
that, it would be delightful here, old Fir, wouldn’t it ?” 

“ I am by no means old,” said the Fir-tree. “ There’s 
many a one considerably older than I am.” 

“ Where do you come from,” asked the Mice ; “ and 
what can you do ?” They were so extremely curious. 
“Tell us about the most beautiful spot on the earth. 
Have you never been there? Were you never in the 
larder, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang 
from above ; where one dances about on tallow candles ; 
that place where one enters lean, and comes out again fat 
and portly ?” 

“ I know no such place,” said the Tree. “ But I know 
the wood, where the sun shines and where the little birds 
sing.” And then he told all about his youth ; and the 
little Mice had never heard the like before; and they lis- 
tened and said, 


THE FIR-TREE. 


75 


“ Well, to be sure ! How much you have seen ! How 
happy you must have been !” 

“ I !” said the Fir-tree, thinking over what he had him- 
self related. “ Yes, in reality those were happy times.” 
And then he told about Christmas-eve, when he was 
decked out with cakes and candles. 

“ Oh,” said the little Mice, “ how fortunate you have 
been, old Fir-tree !” 

“ I am by no means old,” said he. “ I came from the 
wood this winter; I am in my prime, and am only rather 
short for my age.” 

“ What delightful stories you know !” said the Mice : 
and the next night they came with four other little Mice, 
who were to hear what the 'Tree recounted ; and the more 
he related, the more plainly he remembered all himself ; 
and it appeared as if those times had really been happy 
times. “ But they may still come, — they may still come ! 
Hump}^-Dumpy fell down stairs, and yet he got a princess !” 
and he thought at the moment of a nice little Birch-tree 
growing out in the woods : to the Fir, that would be a 
real charming princess. 

“ Who is Humpy-Dumpy ?” asked the Mice. So them 
the Fir-tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remem- 
ber every single word of it ; and the little Mice jumped 


76 


THE FIR-TREE. 


for joy up to the very top of the Tree. Next night two 
more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats even ; but they 
said the stories were not interesting, which vexed the lit- 
tle Mice ; and they, too, now began to think them not so 
very amusing either. 

“ Do you know only one story ?” asked the Rats. 

“ Only that one,” answered the Tree. “ I heard it on 
my happiest evening ; but I did not then know how happy 
I was.” 

“ It is a very stupid story ! Don’t you know one about 
bacon and tallow candles ? Can’t you tell any larder- 
stories ?” 

“ No,” said the Tree. 

“ Then good-bye,” said the Rats ; and they went home. 

At last the little Mice stayed away also ; and the Tree 
sighed : “ After all, it was very pleasant when the sleek 
little Mice sat round me and listened to what I told them. 
Now that too is over. But I will take good care to enjoy 
myself when I am brought out again.” 

But when was that to be ? Why, one morning there 
came a quantity of people and set to work in the loft. The 
trunks were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown, — 
rather hard, it is true, — down on the floor, but a man drew 
him towards the stairs, where the daylight shone. 


THE FIR-TREE. 


77 


“ Now a merry life will begin again,” thought the Tree. 
He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam, — and now he was 
out in the court-yard. All passed so quickly, there was so 
much going on around him, the Tree quite forgot to look 
to himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in 
flower ; the roses hung so fresh and odorous over the bal- 
ustrade, the lindens were in blossom, the Swallows flew by, 
and said, “ Quirre-vit ! my husband is come !” but it was 
not the Fir-tree that they meant. 

“ Now, then, I shall really enjoy life,” said he exultingly, 
and spread out his branches ; but, alas ! they were all with- 
ered and yellow. It was in a corner that he lay, among 
weeds and nettles. The golden star of tinsel was still on 
the top of the Tree, and glittered in the sunshine. 

In the court-yard some of the merry children were play- 
ing who had danced at Christmas round the Fir-tree, and 
were so glad at the sight of him. One of the youngest ran 
and tore off the golden star. 

“ Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree !” 
said he, trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked 
beneath his feet. 

And the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and 
the freshness in the garden ; he beheld himself, and wished 
he had remained in his dark corner in the loft : he thought 


78 


THE FIR-TREE. 


of his first youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas-eve, 
and of the little Mice who had listened with so much plea- 
sure to the story of Humpy-Dumpy. 

“ ’Tis over — ’tis past !” said the poor Tree. “ Had I but 
rejoiced when I had reason to do so ! But now ’tis past, 
’tis past !” 

And the gardener’s boy chopped the Tree into small 
pieces ; there was a whole heap lying there. The wood 
flamed up splendidly under the large brewing copper, and 
it sighed so deeply. Each sigh was like a shot. 

The boys played about in the court, and the youngest 
wore the gold star on his breast which the Tree had had 
on the happiest evening of his life. However, that was 
over now, — the Tree gone, the story at an end.^ All, all 
was over ; — every tale must end at last. 


THE SNOW - QUEEN. 

JFtrst iåtorjj. 

W hich treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters. 

J HT* OW, then, let us begin. When 
we are at the end of the story, 
we shall know more than we 
know now : but to begin. 

Once upon a time there 
was a wicked sprite, indeed 
he was the most mischievous 
of all sprites. One day he 
was in a very good humor, 
for he had made 
a mirror with the 
power of causing 
all that was good 
and beautiful when 
it was reflected 



80 


THE SNOW-aUEEN. 


therein to look poor and mean ; but that which was good 
for nothing and looked ugly, was shown magnified and in- 
creased in ugliness. In this mirror the most beautiful 
landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons 
were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their 
heads ; their faces were so distorted that they were not to 
be recognized ; and if any one had a mole, you might be 
sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose 
and mouth. “ That’s glorious fun !” said the Sprite. If 
a good thought passed through a man’s mind, then a grin 
was seen in the mirror, and the Sprite laughed heartily at 
his clever discovery. All the little sprites who went to his 
school — for he kept a sprite-school — told each other that a 
miracle had happened ; and that now only, as they thought, 
it would be possible to see how the world really looked. 
They ran about with the mirror ; and at last there was not 
a land or a person who was not represented distorted in 
the mirror. So then they thought they would fly up to 
the sky, and have a joke there. The higher they flew with 
the mirror, the more terribly it grinned : they could hardly 
hold it fast. Higher and higher still they flew, nearer and 
nearer to the stars, when suddenly the mirror shook so 
terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands and 
fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million 


THE SNOW-QUEE^. 


81 


and more pieces. And now it worked much more evil 
than before ; for some of these pieces were hardly so large 
as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide world, 
and when they got into people’s eyes, there they stayed ; 
and then people saw every thing perverted, or only had an 
eye for that which was evil. This happened because the 
very smallest bit had the same power which the whole 
mirror had possessed. Some persons even got a splinter 
in their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their 
heart became like a lump of ice. Some of the broken 
pieces were so large that they were used for window-panes, 
through which one could not see one’s friends. Other 
pieces were put in spectacles ; and that was a sad affair 
when people put on their glasses to see well and rightly. 
Then the wicked sprite laughed till he almost choked, for 
all this tickled his fancy. The fine splinters still flew about 
in the air: and now we shall hear what happened next. 


6 


82 


THE SNOW-QUEEN* 


SECOND STORY. 

A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 

In a large town, where there are so many houses, and 
so many people, that there is no room left for every-body 
to have a little garden ; and where, on this account, most 
persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in 
pots ; there lived two little children, who had a garden 
somewhat larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother 
and sister ; but they cared for each other as much as if 
they were. Their parents lived exactly opposite. They 
inhabited two garrets; and where the roof of the one 
house joined that of the other, and the gutter ran along 
the extreme end of it, there was to each house a small 
window : one needed only to step over the gutter to get 
from one window to the other. 

The children’s parents had large wooden boxes there, 
in which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little 
rose-trees besides : there was a rose in each box, and they 
grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes 
across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one 
window to the other, and looked just like two walls of 
flowers. The tendrils of the peas hung down over the 


A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 


83 


boxes ; and the rose-trees shot up long branches, twined 
round the windows, and then bent towards each other : it- 
was almost like a triumphal arch of foliage and flowers. 
The boxes were very high, and the children knew that 
they must not creep over them ; so they often obtained 
permission to get out of the windows to each other, and 
to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they 
could play delightfully. In winter there was an end of 
this pleasure. The windows were often frozen over ; but 
then they heated copper farthings on the stove, and laid 
the hot farthing on the window-pane, and then they had a 
capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded ; and out of each 
peeped a gentle friendly eye, — it was the little boy and the 
little girl who were looking out. His name was Kay, hers 
was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they could get to 
each other ; but in winter they were obliged first to go 
down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again : 
and out of doors there was quite a snow-storm. 

“ It is the white bees that are swarming,” said Kay’s old 
grandmother. 

“ Do the white bees choose a queen ?” asked the little 
boy ; for he knew that the honey-bees always have one. 

“Yes,” said the grandmother, “she flies, where the 
swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest 


84 


THE SNOW-dUEEN. 


of all ; and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but 
goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter’s 
night she flies through the streets of the town, and peeps 
in at the windows ; and they then freeze in so wondrous a 
manner that they look like flowers.” 

“ Yes, I have seen it,” said both the children ; and so 
they knew that it was true. 

“ Can the Snow-Queen come in ?” said the little girl. 

“ Only let her come in !” said the little boy ; " then I’d 
put her on the stove, and she’d melt.” 

And then his grandmothér patted his head, and told 
him other stories. 

In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half 
undressed, he climbed upon the chair by the window, and 
peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were 
falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the 
edge of a flower-pot. The flake of snow grew larger and 
larger ; and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in 
the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes, like 
stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of 
ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes 
gazed fixedly, like two stars ; but there was neither quiet 
or repose in them. She nodded towards the window, and 
beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened. 


A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 


85 


and jumped down from the chair ; it seemed to him as if, 
at the same moment, a large bird flew past the window. 

The next day it was a sharp frost ; — and then the spring 
came ; the sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the swal- 
lows built their nests, the windows were opened, and the 
little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on 
the leads at top of the house. 

That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. 
The little girl had learned a hymn, in which there was 
something about roses ; and then she thought of her own 
flowers ; and she sang the verse to the little boy, who then 
sang it with her : 

“ The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 

And angels descend there the children to greet.’ 

And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the 
roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as though 
they really saw angels there. What lovely summer-days 
those were ! How delightful to be out in the air, near the 
fresh-rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never finish 
blossoming ! 

Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts 
and of birds ; and it was then, — the clock in the church- 
tower was just striking five, — that Kay said, “ Oh ! I feel 


86 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


such a sharp pain in my heart ; and now something has 
got into my éye !” 

The little girl put her arms round his neck. He winked 
his eyes ; — now, there was nothing to be seen. 

“ I think it is out now,” said he ; but it was not. It was 
just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror 
that had got into his eye ; and poor Kay had got another 
piece right in his heart. It will soon become like ice. It 
did not hurt any longer, but there it was. 

“ What are you crying for?” asked he. “ You look so 
ugly ! There’s nothing the matter with me. Ah,” said 
he at once, “ that rose is cankered ! and, look, this one is 
quite crooked ! after all, these roses are very ugly ! they 
are just like the box they are planted in !” And then he 
gave the box a good kick with his foot, and pulled both 
the roses up. 

“ What are you doing ?” cried the little girl ; and as he 
perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at 
the window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda. 

Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he 
asked, “ What horrid beasts she had there ?” And if his 
grandmother told them stories, he always interrupted her ; 
besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her, 
put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking : he 


A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 


87 


copied all her ways, and then every-body laughed at him. 
He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of every 
one in the street Every thing that was peculiar and dis- 
pleasing in them, — that Kay knew how to imitate ; and at 
such times all the people said, “ The boy is certainly very 
clever !” But it was the glass he had got in his eye ; the 
glass that was sticking in his heart, which made him tease 
even little Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him. 

His games now were quite different to what they had 
formerly been, they were so very knowing. One winter’s 
day, when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread 
the skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow as it fell. 

“ Look through this glass, Gerda,” said he. And every 
flake seemed larger, and appeared like a magnificent flower, 
or a beautiful star ; it was splendid to look at ! 

“ Look, how clever !” said Kay. “That’s much more 
interesting than real flowers ! They are as exact as possi- 
ble ; there is not a fault in them, if they did not melt !” 

It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with 
large gloves on, and his little sledge at his back, .and 
bawled right into Gerda’s ears^‘ I have permission to go 
out into the square, where the others are playing and 
off he was in a moment. 

There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the 


88 


THE SNOW-aUEEN T . 


boys used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed 
by, and so they were pulled along, and got a good ride. 
It was so capital ! Just a£ they were in the very height 
of their amusement, a large sledge passed by : it was 
painted quite white, and there was some one in it wrapped 
up in a rough white mantle of fur, with a rough white fur 
cap on his head. The sledge drove round the square twice, 
and Kay tied on his as quickly as he could, and off he 
drove with it. On they went, quicker and quicker into the 
next street ; and the person who drove turned round to 
Kay, and nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if 
they knew each other. Every time he was going to untie 
his sledge the person nodded to him, and then Kay sat 
quiet ; and so on they went till they came outside the gates 
of the town. Then the snow began.-to fall so thickly, that 
the little boy could not see an arm’s length before him, but 
still on he went ; when suddenly he let go the string he 
held in his hand in order to get loose from the sledge, but 
it was of no use ; still the Jittle vehicle rushed on with the 
quickness of the Wind.' Tie then cried as loud as he 
could, but no one heard^jm ; the snow drifted and the 
sledge flew on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though 
they were driving over hedges* and ditches. He was quite 
frightened, and he tried to repeat the Lord’s Prayer ; but 


A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 


89 


all he could do, he was only able to remember the multi- 
plication-table. 

The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they 
looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on 
one side ; the large sledge stopped, and the person who 
drove rose up. It was a lady ; her cloak and cap were of 
snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a daz- 
zling whiteness. It was the Snow-Queen. 

“ We have travelled fast,” said she ; “ but it is freezingly 
cold. Come under my bear- skin.” And she put him in 
the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he 
felt as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath. 

“Are you still cold?” asked she ; and then she kissed 
his forehead. Ah ! it was colder than ice ; it penetrated 
to his very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump ; 
it seemed to him as if he^were about to die, — but a moment 
more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not re- 
mark the cold that was around him. 

“ My sledge ! Do not forget my sledge !” It was the 
first thing he thought of. It was there tied to one of the 
white chickens, who flew along with it on its back behind 
the large sledge. The Snow-Queen kissed Kay once more, 
and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom 
he had left at his home. 


90 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


“ Now you will have no more kisses,” said she, “ or else 
I should kiss you to death !” 

Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful ; a more 
clever or a more lovely countenance he could not fancy to 
himself ; and she no longer appeared of ice as before, when 
she sat outside the window, and beckoned to him ; in his 
eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and told 
her that he could calculate in his head, and with fractions 
even ; that he knew the number of square miles there were 
in the different countries, and how many inhabitants they 
contained ; and she smiled while he spoke. It then seemed 
to him as if what he knew was not enough, and he looked 
upwards in the large huge empty space above him, and on 
she flew with him; flew high over the black clouds, while 
the storm moaned and whistled as though it were singing 
some old tune. On they flew over woods and lakes, over 
seas and many lands ; and beneath them the chilling storm 
rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled ; above 
them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared 
the moon quite large and bright ; and it was on it that 
Kay gazed during the long long winter’s night ; while by 
day he slept at the feet of the Snow-Queen. 


THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 


91 



THIRD STORY. 

OF THE FLOWER-GARDEN AT THE OLD WOMAN’S WHO 
UNDERSTOOD WITCHCRAFT. 

But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not re- 
turn ? Where could he be ? Nobody knew ; nobody 
could give any intelligence. All the boys knew was, that 
they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splen- 
did one, which drove down the street and out of the town. 
Nobody knew where he was ; many sad tears were shed, 
and little Gerda wept long and bitterly : at last she said 
he must be dead ; that he had been drowned in the river 
which flowed close to the town. Oh ! those were very 
long and dismal winter evenings. 

At last spring came with its warm sunshine. 

“ Kay is dead and gone !” said little Gerda. 

“ That I don’t believe,” said the Sunshine. 

“Kay is dead and gone !” said she to the Swallows. 

“That I don’t believe,” said they; and at last little 
Gerda did not think so any longer either. 

“ I’ll put on my red shoes,” said she, one morning ; 
“Kay has never seen them, and then I’ll go down to the 
river and ask there.” 


92 


THE SNOW-QUEEN, 


It was quite early : she kissed her old grandmother, who 
was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to 
the river. 

“ Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow ? I 
will make you a present of my red shoes, if you will give 
him back to me.” 

And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a 
strange manner ; then she took off her red shoes, the most 
precious things she possessed, and threw them both into 
the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little 
waves bore them immediately to land ; it was as if the 
stream would not take what was dearest to her ; for in 
reality it had not got little Kay : but Gerda thought that 
she had not thrown the shoes far out enough, so she clam- 
bered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went to the 
farthest end, and threw out the shoes. But the boat was 
not fastened, and the motion which she occasioned, made it 
drift from the shore. She observed this, and hastened to 
get back ; but before she could do so, the boat was more 
than a yard from the land, and was gliding quickly onward. 

Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry ; but 
no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not 
carry her to land ; but they flew along the bank, and sang 
as if to comfort her, “ Here we are ! here we are !” The 


THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 


93 


boat drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still 
without shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, 
but could not reach it, because it went much faster than 
they did. 

The banks on both sides were beautiful ; lovely flowers, 
venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a 
human being was to be seen. 

“ Perhaps the river'.will carry me to little Kay,” said 
she ; and then she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for 
many hours at tl!5 beautiful green banks. Presently she 
sailed by a large cherry orchard, where was a little cottage 
with curious red and blue windows ; it was thatched, and 
before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented 
arms when any one went past. 

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive ; 
but they, of course, did not answer. She came close to 
them, for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land. 

Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came 
out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had 
a large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most splen- 
did flowers. 

“ Poor little child !” said the old woman, " how did you 
get upon the large rapid river, to be driven about so in the 
wide world !” And then the old woman went into the 


94 


THE SNOW-aUEEN. 


water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew 
it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out. 

And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again ; but 
she was rather afraid of the strange old woman. 

“ But come and tell me who you are, and how you came 
here,” said she. 

And Gerda told her all ; and the old woman shook 
her head and said, “ A-hem ! a-hem !” and when Gerda 
had told her any thing, and asked her if she had not seen 
little Kay, the woman answered that H# had not passed 
there, but he no doubt would come ; and she told her not 
to be cast down, but taste her cherries, and look at her flow- 
ers, which were finer than any in a picture-book, each of 
which could tell a whole story. She then took Gerda 
by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the 
door. 

The windows were very high up ; the glass was red, 
blue, and green, and the sunlight shone through quite 
wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the 
most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she 
chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was 
eating, the old woman combed her hair with a golden comb, 
and her hair curled and shone with a lovely golden color 


THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 


95 , 


around that sweet little face, which was so round, and so 
like a rose. 

“ I have often longed for such a dear little girl,” said 
the old woman. “ Now you shall see how well we agree 
together and while she combed little Gerda’s hair, the 
child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the 
old woman understood magic ; but she was no evil being, 
she only practised witchcraft a little for her own private 
amusement, and now she wanted very much to keep little 
Gerda. She therefore went out into the garden, stretched 
out her crooked stick towards the rose bushes, which, beauti- 
fully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth, and no 
one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared 
that if Gerda should see the roses, she would then think of 
her own, would remember little Kay, and run away from her. 

She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what 
odor and what loveliness was there ! Every flower that 
one could think of, and of every season, stood there in 
fullest bloom : ng picture-book could be gayer or more 
beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun 
set behind the tall cherry-tree ; she then had a pretty bed, 
with a red silken coverlet filled with blue violets. She 
fell asleep, and had as pleasant dreams as ever a queen 
on her wedding-day. 


96 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


The next morning she went to play with the flowers in 
the warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day. Gerda 
knew every flower ; and, numerous as they were, it still 
seemed to Gerda that one was wanting, though she did 
not know which. One day while she was looking at the 
hat of the old woman painted with flowers, the most 
beautiful of them all seemed to her to be a rose. The old 
woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she 
made the others vanish in the earth. But so it is when 
one’s thoughts are not collected. “What!” said Gerda; 
“are there no roses here?” and she ran about amongst 
the flower-beds, and looked, and looked, but there was not 
one to be found. She then sat down and wept ; but her 
hot tears fell just where a rose-bush had sunk ; and when 
her warm tears watered the ground, the tree shot up sud- 
denly as fresh and blooming as when it had been swallowed 
up. Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her own dear 
roses at home, and with them of little Kay. 

“ Oh, how long I have stayed !” said the little girl. “ I 
intended to look for Kay ! Don’t you know where he is ?” 
asked she of the roses. “ Do you think he is dead and 
gone ?” 

“ Dead he certainly is not,” said the Roses. “ We 


THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 


97 


have been in the earth where all the dead are, but Kay 
was not there. ” 

“ Many thanks !” said the little Gerda ; and she went 
to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, 
“ Don’t you know where little Kay is ?” 

But every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its 
own fairy-tale or its own story ; and they all told her very 
many things, but not one knew any thing of Kay. 

Well, what did the Tiger-Lily say ? 

“ Hearest thou not the drum ? Bum ! bum ! those are 
the only two tones. Always bum ! bum ! Hark to the 
plaintive song of the old woman ! to the call of the priests! 
The Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the 
funeral pile : the flames rise around her and her dead 
husband, but the Hindoo woman thinks on the living one 
in the surrounding circle ; on him whose eyes burn hotter 
than the flames,— on him, the fire of whose eyes pierces 
her heart more than the flames which soon will burn her 
body to ashes. Can the heart’s flame die in the flame of 
the funeral pile ?” 

“ I don’t understand that at all,” said little Gerda. 

“ That is my story,” said the Lily. 

What did the Convolvulus say ? 

“Projecting over a narrow mountain-path, there hangs 

7 


98 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


an old feudal castle. Thick evergreens grow on the dilapi- 
dated walls and around the altar, where a lovely maiden 
is standing : she bends over the railing and looks out upon 
the rose. No fresher rose hangs on the branches than 
she ; no apple-blossom carried away by the wind is more 
buoyant ! How her splendid silken robe is rustling ! 

“ * Is he not yet come ?’ ” 

“Is it Kay that you mean?” asked little Gerda. 

“ I am speaking about my story, — about my dream,” 
answered the Convolvulus. 

What did the Snow-drops say ? 

“ Between the trees a long board is hanging, — it is a 
swing. Two little girls are sitting in it, and swing them- 
selves backwards and forwards : their frocks are as white 
as snow, and long green silk ribbons flutter from their 
bonnets. Their brother, who is older than they are, stands 
up in the swing ; he twines his arms round the cords to 
hold himself fast, for in one hand he has a little cup, and 
in the other a clay-pipe. He is blowing soap-bubbles. 
The swing moves, and the bubbles float in charming 
changing colors : the last is still hanging to the end of the 
pipe, and rocks in the breeze. The swing moves. The 
little black dog, as light as a soap-bubble, jumps up on 
his hind legs to try to get into the swing. It moves, the 


THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 


99 


dog falls down, barks, and is angry. They teaze him ; 
the bubble bursts ! — A swing, a bursting bubble, — such is 
my song!” 

“ What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it 
in so melancholy a manner, and do not mention Kay.” 

What do the Hyacinths say ? 

“ There were once upon a time three sisters, quite trans- 
parent and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red, 
that of the second blue, and that of the third white. They 
danced hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear 
moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal 
children. A sweet fragrance was smelt, and the maidens 
vanished in the wood ; the fragrance grew stronger : 
three coffins, and in them three lovely maidens, glided out 
of the forest and across the lake : the shining glow-worms 
flew around like little floating lights. Do the dancing 
maidens sleep, or are they dead ? The odor of the flow- 
ers says they are corpses ; the evening bell tolls for the 
dead !” 

“ You make me quite sad,” said little Gerda. “ I can- 
not help thinking of the dead maidens. Oh ! is little Kay 
really dead ? The Roses have been in the earth, and they 
say no.” 

“ Ding, dong !” sounded the Hyacinth bells. “We do 


100 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


not toll for little Kay ; we do not know him. That is our 
way of singing, the only one we have.” 

And Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth 
from among the shining green leaves. 

“ You are a little bright sun !” said Gerda. “ Tell me 
if you know where I can find my playfellow.” 

And the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again 
at Gerda. What song could the Ranunculus sing? It 
was one that said nothing about Kay either. 

“ In a small court the bright sun was shining in the 
first days of spring. The beams glided down the white 
walls of a neighbor’s house, and close by the fresh yellow 
flowers were growing, shining like gold in the warm sun- 
rays. An old Grandmother was sitting in the air ; her 
Granddaughter, the poor and lovely servant just come for 
a short visit. She knows her Grandmother. There was 
gold, pure virgin gold, in that blessed kiss. There, that 
is my little story,” said the Ranunculus. 

“My poor old Grandmother!” sighed Gerda. “Yes, 
she is longing for me, no doubt ; she is sorrowing for me, 
as she did for little Kay. But I will soon come home, 
and then I will bring Kay with me. It is of no use ask- 
ing the Flowers ; they only know their own old rhymes, 
and can tell me nothing.” And she tucked up her frock, 


THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 


101 


to enable her to run quicker ; but the Narcissus gave her 
a knock on the leg, just as she was going to jump over it. 
So she stood still, looked at the long yellow flower, and 
asked, “ You perhaps know something ?” and she bent 
down to the Narcissus. And what did it say ? 

“ I can see myself, — I can see myself ! Oh, how odor- 
ous I am ! Up in the little garret there stands half- 
dressed a little Dancer. She stands now on one leg, now 
on both ; she despises the whole world ; yet she lives only 
in imagination. She pours water out of the teapot over a 
piece of stuff which she holds in her hand ; it is the 
bodice: cleanliness is a fine thing. The white dress is 
hanging on the hook ; it was washed in the teapot, and 
dried on the roof. She puts it on, ties a saffron-colored 
kerchief round her neck, and then the gown looks whiter. 
I can see myself, — I can see myself !” 

“ That’s nothing to me,” said little Gerda. “ That does 
not concern me.” And then off she ran to the further 
end of the garden. 

The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till 
it was loosened, and the gate opened ; and little Gerda 
ran off barefooted into the wide world. She looked round 
her thrice, but no one followed her. At last she could 
run no longer ; she sat down on a large stone, and when 


102 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


she looked about her, she saw that the summer had 
passed ; it was late in the autumn, but that one could not 
remark in the beautiful garden, where there was always 
sunshine, and where there were flowers the whole year 
round. 

“ Dear me, how long I have stayed !” said Gerda. 
“ Autumn is come. I must not rest any longer.” And 
she got up to go further. 

Oh, how tender and wearied her little feet were ! All 
around, it looked so cold and raw ; the long willow-leaves 
were quite yellow, and the fog dripped from them like 
water ; one leaf fell after the other : the sloes only stood 
full of fruit, which set one’s teeth on edge. Oh, how dark 
and comfortless it was in the dreary world ! 


FOURTH STORY. 

THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 

Gerda was obliged to rest herself again, when, exactly 
opposite to her, a large Raven came hopping over the white 
snow. He had long been looking at Gerda and shaking 


THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 


103 


his head ; and now he said, “ Caw ! caw !” Good day ! 
good day ! He could not say it better ; but he felt a sym- 
pathy for the little girl, and asked here where she was 
going all alone. The word “ alone” Gerda understood 
quite well, and felt how much was expressed by it ; so she 
told the Raven her whole history, and asked if he had not 
seen Kay. 

The Raven nodded very gravely, and said, “ It may be 
— it may be !” 

“ What, do you really think so ?” cried the little girl ; 
and she nearly squeezed the Raven to death, so much did 
she kiss him. 

“ Gently, gently,” said the Raven. “ I think I know ; 
I think that it may be little Kay. But now he has forgot- 
ten you for the Princess.” 

“ Does he live with a Princess ?” asked Gerda. 

“ Yes, — listen,” said the Raven ; “ but it will be diffi- 
cult for me to speak your language. If you understand 
the raven language, I can tell you better.” 

“ No, I have not learnt it,” said Gerda ; “ but my Grand- 
mother understands it, and she can speak gibberish too. I 
wish I had learnt it.” 

"No matter,” said the Raven ; “ I will tell you as well 


104 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


as I can; however, it will be bad enough.” And then he 
told all he knew. 

“ In the kingdom where we now are there lives a Prin- 
cess, who is extraordinarily clever ; for she has read all the 
newspapers in the whole world, and has forgotten them 
again, — so clever is she. She was lately, it is said, sitting 
on her throne, — which is not very amusing, after all, — when 
she began humming an old tune, and it was just * Oh, why 
should I not be married?’ ‘That song is not without its 
meaning,’ said she, and so then she was determined to 
marry ; but she would have a husband who knew how to 
give an answer when he was spoken to, — not one who 
looked only as if he were a great personage, for that is so 
tiresome. She then had all the ladies of the court drum- 
med together ; and when they heard her intention, all were 
well pleased, and said, ‘ We are very glad to hear it ; it is 
the very thing we were thinking of.’ You may believe 
every word, I say,” said the Raven ; “ for I have a tame 
sweetheart that hops about in the palace quite free, and it 
was she who told me all this. 

“ The newspapers appeared forthwith with a border of 
hearts and the initials of the Princess ; and therein you 
might read that every good-looking young man was at 
liberty to come to the palace and speak to the Princess ; 


THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 


105 


and he who spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself 
at home there, that one the Princess would choose for her 
husband. 

“Yes — yes,” said the Raven, “you may believe it; it 
is as true as I am sitting here. People came in crowds; 
there was a crush and a hurry, but no one was successful 
either on the first or second day. They could all talk well 
enough when they were out in the street ; but as soon as 
they came inside the palace-gates, and saw the guard richly 
dressed in silver, and the lackeys in gold on the staircase, 
and the large illuminated saloons, then they were abashed ; 
and when they stood before the throne on which the Prin- 
cess was sitting, all they could do was to repeat the last 
word they had uttered, and to hear it again did not interest 
her very much. It was just as if the people within were 
under a charm, and had fallen into a trance till they came 
out again into the street; for then, — oh, then, — they. could 
chatter enough. There was a whole row of them standing 
from the town-gates to the palace. I was there myself to 
look,” said the Raven. “ They grew hungry and thirsty ; 
but from the palace they got nothing whatever, not even a 
glass of water. Some of the cleverest, it is true, had taken 
bread and butter with them ; but none shared it with his 


106 


THE SNOW-aUEEN. 


neighbor, for each thought, ‘ Let him look hungry, and then 
the Princess won’t have him.’ ” 

“But Kay — little Kay,” said Gerda, “ when did he come? 
Was he among the number ?” 

“ Patience, patience ; we are just come to him. It was 
on the third day, when a little personage, without horse or 
equipage, came marching right boldly up to the palace ; 
his eyes shone like yours, he had beautiful long hair, but 
his clothes were very shabby.” 

“ That was Kay,” cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. 
“ Oh, now I’ve found him !” and she clapped her hands for 

j°y- 

“ He had a little knapsack at his back,” said the Raven. 

“ No, that was certainty his sledge,” said Gerda ; “ for 
when he went away he took his sledge with him.” 

“ That may be,” said the Raven ; “ I did not examine 
him so minutely : but I know from my tame sweetheart, 
that when he came into the courtyard of the palace, and 
saw the body-guard in silver, the lackeys on the staircase, 
he was not the least abashed ; he nodded, and said to them, 
* It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs ; for my 
part, I shall go in.’ The saloons were gleaming with lus- 
tres, — privy councillors and excellencies were walking about 
barefooted, and wore gold keys ; it was enough to make any 


THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 


107 


one feel uncomfortable. His boots creaked, too, so loudly ; 
but still he was not at all afraid.” 

“ That’s Kay, for certain,” said Gerda. “I know lie 
had on new boots ; I have heard them creaking in Grand- 
mamma’s room.” 

“Yes, they creaked,” said the Raven. “And on he 
went boldly up to the Princess, who was sitting on a pearl 
as large as a spinning-wheel. All the ladies of the court, 
with their attendants and attendants’ attendants, and all the 
cavaliers, with their gentlemen and gentlemen’s gentlemen, 
stood round ; and the nearer they stood to the door, the 
prouder they looked. It was hardly possible to look at the 
gentlemen’s gentleman, so very haughtily did he stand in 
the doorway.” 

“ It must have been terrible,” said little Gerda. “ And 
did Kay get the Princess ?” 

“ Were I not a Raven, I should have taken the Princess 
myself, although I am promised. It is said he spoke as 
well as I speak when I talk raven language ; this I learned 
from my tame sweetheart. He was bold and nicely be- 
haved ; he had not come to woo the Princess, but only to 
hear her wisdom. She pleased him, and he pleased her.” 

“Yes, yes; for certain that was Kay,” said Gerda. 


108 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


“ He was so clever ; he could reckon fractions in his head. 
Oh, won’t you take me to the palace ?” 

“That is very easily said,” answered the Raven. “ But 
how are we to manage it ? I’ll speak to my tame sweet- 
heart about it ; she must advise us ; for so much I must 
tell you, such a little girl as you are will never get per- 
mission to enter.” 

“Oh, yes, I shall,” said Gerda; “when Kay hears that 
I am here, he will come out directly to fetch me.” 

“ Wait for me here on these steps,” said the Raven. 
He moved his head backwards and forwards, and flew 
away. 

The evening was closing in when the Raven returned. 
“ Caw, — caw !” said he. “ She sends you her compli- 
ments ; and here is a roll for you. She took it out of the 
kitchen, where there is bread enough. You are hungry, 
no doubt. It is not possible for you to enter the palace, 
for you are barefooted ; the guards in silver and the lackeys 
in gold would not allow it ; but do not cry, you shall come 
in still. My sweetheart knows a little backstair that leads 
to the bedchamber, and she knows where she can get the 
key of it.” 

And they went into the garden in the large avenue, 
where one leaf was falling after the other ; and when the 


THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 


109 


lights in the palace had all gradually disappeared, the 
Raven led little Gerda to the back-door, which stood half 
open. 

Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety and longing ! 
It was just as if she had been about to do something wrong ; 
and yet she only wanted to know if little Kay was there. 
Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his intelligent 
eyes and his long hair so vividly, she could quite see him 
as he used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses 
at home. “ He will, no doubt, be glad to see you, — to 
hear what a long way you have come for his sake ; to 
know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come 
back.” 

Oh, what a fright and a joy it was ! 

They were now on the stairs. A single lamp was burn- 
ing there ; and on the floor stood the tame Raven, turning 
her head on every side and looking at Gerda, who bowed 
as her grandmother had taught her to do. 

“ My intended has told me so much good of you, my 
dear young lady,” said the tame Raven. “ Your tale is 
very affecting. If you will take the lamp, I will go before. 
We will go straight on, for we shall meet no one.” 

“ I think there is somebody just behind us,” said Gerda ; 
and something rushed past : it was like shadowy figures 


110 


THE SNOW-aUEEN. 


on the wall ; horses with flowing manes and thin legs, 
huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on horseback. 

“ They are only dreams,” said the Raven. “ They come 
to fetch the thoughts of the high personages to the chase : 
’tis well, for now you can observe them in bed all the bet- 
ter. But let me find, when you enjoy honor and distinction, 
that you possess a grateful heart.” 

“ Tut ! that’s not worth talking about,” said the Raven 
of the woods. 

They now entered the first saloon, which was of rose- 
colored satin, with artificial flowers on the wall. Here the 
dreams were rushing past, but they hastened by so quickly, 
that Gerda could not see the high personages. One hall 
was more magnificent than the other ; one might indeed 
well be abashed ; and at last they came into the bed- 
chamber. The ceiling of the room resembled a large 
palm-tree with leaves of glass, of costly glass ; and in the 
middle, from a thick golden stem, hung two beds, each 
of which resembled a lily. One was white, and in this 
lay the Princess : the other was red, and it was here that 
Gerda was to look for little Kay. She bent back one of 
the red leaves, and saw a brown neck. — Oh ! that was 
Kay ! She called him quite loud by name, held the lamp 
towards him, — the dreams rushed back again into the 






























V - 
















THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 


Ill 


chamber, — he awoke, turned his head, and — it was not 
little Kay ! 

The Prince was only like him about the neck ; but he 
was young and handsome. And out of the white lily 
leaves the Princess peeped too, and asked what was the 
matter. Then little Gerda cried, and told her her whole 
history, and all that the Ravens had done for her. 

“ Poor little thing !” said the Prince and the Princess. 
They praised the Ravens very much, and told them they 
were not at all angry with them, but they were not to do 
so again. However they should have a reward. 

“ Will you fly about here* at liberty,” asked the Prin- 
cess ; “ or would you like to have a fixed appointment as 
court ravens, with all the broken bits from the kitchen?” 

And both the Ravens nodded, and begged for a fixed 
appointment ; for they thought of their old age, and said, 
“it was a good thing to have a provision for their old 
days.” 

And the Prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, 
and more than this he could not do. She folded her little 
hands, and thought, “ how good men and animals are !” 
and she then fell asleep and slept soundly. All the dreams 
flew in again, and they now looked like the angels ; they 
drew a little sledge, in which little Kay sat and nodded 


112 


THE SNOW-CiUEEN. 


his head ; but the whole was only a dream, and therefore 
it all vanished as soon as she awoke. 

The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk 
and velvet. They offered to let her stay at the palace, 
and lead a happy life ; but she begged to have a little 
carriage with a horse in front, and for a small pair of 
shoes ; then, she said, she would again go forth in the 
wide world, and look for Kay. 

Shoes and a muff were given her ; she was, too, dressed 
very nicely ; and when she was about to set off, a new 
carriage stopped before the door. It was of pure gold, 
and the arms of the Prince and Princess shone like a star 
upon it ; the coachman, the footmen, and the outriders, for 
outriders were there too, all wore golden crowns. The 
Prince and the Princess assisted her into the carriage 
themselves, and wished her all success. The Raven of 
the woods, who was now married, accompanied her for 
the first three miles. He sat beside Gerda, for he could 
not bear riding backwards ; the other Raven stood in the 
doorway, and flapped her wings ; she could not accompany 
Gerda, because she suffered from headache since she had 
had a fixed appointment and ate so much. The carriage 
was lined inside with sugar-plums, and in the seats were 
fruits and gingerbread. 


THE LITTLE ROBBER-MAIDEN. 


113 


“Farewell! farewell!” cried Prince and Princess ; and 
Gerda wept, and the Raven wept. Thus passed the first 
miles ; and then the Raven bade her farewell, and this was 
the most painful separation of all. He flew into a tree, 
and beat his black wings as long as he could see the car- 
riage, that shone from afar like a sunbeam. 




FIFTH STORY. 

THE LITTLE ROBBER-MAIDEN. 


They drove through the dark wood ; but the carriage 
shone like a torch, and it dazzled the eyes of the robbers, 
so that they could not bear to look at it. 

“ ’Tis gold ! ’tis gold !” cried they ; and they rushed 
forward, seized the horses, knocked down the little pos- 
tilion, the coachman, and the servants, and pulled little 
Gerda out of the carriage. 

“ How plump, how beautiful she is ! She must have 
been fed on nut-kernels,” said the old female Robber, who 
had a long scrubby beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung 
down over her eyes : “ she is as good as a fatted lamb ! 

8 


114 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


how nice she will be !” And then she drew out a knife, 
the blade of which shone so that it was quite dreadful to 
behold. 

“ Oh !” cried the woman at the same moment. She 
had been bitten in the ear by her own little daughter, who 
hung at her back ; and who was so wild and unmanage- 
able that it was quite amusing to see her. “ You naughty 
child !” said the mother ; and now she had not time to kill 
Gerda. 

“ She shall play with me,” said the little Robber-child : 
“ she shall give me her muff, and her pretty frock ; she 

shall sleep in my bed !” And then she gave her mother 

* 

another bite, so that she jumped, and ran round with the 
pain ; and the robbers laughed, and said, “ Look how she 
is dancing with the little one !” 

“ I will go into the carriage,” said the little Robber- 
maiden ; and she would have her will, for she was very 
spoiled, and very headstrong. She and Gerda got in; 
and then away they drove over the stumps of felled trees, 
deeper and deeper into the woods. The little Robber- 
maiden was as tall as Gerda, but stronger, broader-shoul- 
dered, and of dark complexion ; her eyes were quite black ; 
they looked almost melancholy. She embraced little Gerda, 


THE LITTLE ROBBER- MAIDEN. 


115 


and said, “ They shall not kill you as long as I am not dis- 
pleased with you. You are, doubtless, a princess?” 

“ No,” said little Gerda ; who then related all that had 
happened to her, and how much she cared about little 
Kay. 

The little Robber-maiden looked at her with a serious 
air, nodded her head slightly, and said, “ They shall not 
kill you, even if I am angry with you : then I will do it 
myself and she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put both her 
hands in the handsome muff, which was so soft and warm. 

At length the carriage stopped. They were in the 
midst of the court-yard of a robber’s castle. It was full 
of cracks from top to bottom ; and out of the openings 
magpies and rooks were flying ; and the great bull-dogs, 
each of which looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped 
up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden. 

In the midst of the large, old, smoking hall burnt a 
great fire on the stone floor. The smoke disappeared un- 
der the stones, and had to seek its own egress. In an im- 
mense caldron soup was boiling ; and rabbits and hares 
were being roasted on a spit. 

“ You shall sleep with me to-night, with all my ani- 
mals,” said the little Robber-maiden. They had some- 
thing to eat and drink ; and then went into a corner, where 


116 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


straw and carpets were lying. Beside them, on laths and 
perches, sat nearly a hundred pigeons, all asleep, seem- 
ingly ; but yet they moved a little when the Robber- 
maiden came. “ They are all mine,” said she ; at the 
same time seizing one that was next her by the legs, and 
shaking it so that its wings fluttered. “ Kiss it,” cried the 
little girl, and flung the pigeon in Gerda’s face. “ Up 
there is the rabble of the wood,” continued she, point- 
ing to several laths which were fastened before a hole 
high up in the wall ; “ that’s the rabble ; they would all 
fly away immediately, if they were not well fastened in. 
And here is my dear old Bac ;” and she laid hold of the 
horns of a reindeer, that had a bright copper ring round 
its neck, and was tethered to the spot. “We are obliged 
to lock this fellow in too, or he would make his escape. 
Every evening I tickle his neck with my sharp knife : he 
is so frightened at it !” and the little girl drew forth a long 
knife, from a crack in the wall, and let it glide over the 
reindeer’s neck. The poor animal kicked ; the girl laughed, 
and pulled Gerda into bed with her. 

“ Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep ?” 
asked Gerda ; looking at it rather fearfully. 

“ I always sleep with the knife,” said the little Robber- 
maiden : “ there is no knowing what may happen. But tell 


THE LITTLE ROBBER-MAIDEN. 


117 


me now, once more, all about little Kay ; and why you 
have started off in the wide world alone.” And Gerda re- 
lated all, from the very beginning : the wood-pigeons cooed 
above in their cage, and the others slept. The little Rob- 
ber-maiden wound her arm round Gerda’s neck, held the 
knife in the other hand, and snored -so loud that every- 
body could hear her ; but Gerda could not close her eyes, 
for she did not know whether she was to live or die. The 
robbers sat round the fire, sang and drank ; and the old 
female Robber jumped about so, that it was quite dreadful 
for Gerda to see her. 

Then the Wood-pigeons said, “ Coo ! coo ! we have 
seen little Kay ! A white hen carries his sledge : he him- 
self sat in the carriage of the Snow-Queen, who passed 
here, down just over the wood, as we lay in our nest. She 
blew upon us young ones ; and all died except we two. 
Coo ! coo !” 

“ What is that you say up there ?” cried little Gerda. 
“ Where did the Snow-Queen go to ? Do you know any 
thing about it ?” 

“ She is no doubt gone to Lapland ; for there is always 
snow and ice there. Only ask the Reindeer, who is teth- 
ered there.” 

“ Ice and snow is there ! There it is glorious and beau- 


1 18 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


tiful !” said the Reindeer. “ One can spring about in the 
large shining valleys ! The Snow-Queen has her summer- 
tent there ; but her fixed abode is high up towards the 
North Pole, on the Island called Spitzbergen.” 

“ Oh, Kay ! poor little Kay !” sighed Gerda. 

“ Do you choose to be quiet ?” said the Robber-maiden. 
“ If you don’t, I shall make you.” 

In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood-pig- 
eons had said ; and the little maiden looked very serious, 
but she nodded her head and said, “ That’s no matter, — 
that’s no matter. Do you know where Lapland lies ?” asked 
she of the Reindeer. 

“ Who should know better than I ?” said the animal ; 
and his eyes rolled in his head. “ I was born and bred 
there ; — there I leapt about on the fields of snow.’^ 

“ Listen,” said the Robber-maiden to Gerda. “You see 
that the men are gone ; but my mother is still here, and 
will remain. However, towards morning she takes a 
draught out of the large flask, and then she sleeps a little : 
then I will do something for you.” She now jumped out 
of bed, flew to her mother ; with her arms round her neck, 
and pulling her by the beard, said, “ Good morrow, my own 
sweet nanny-goat of a mother.” And her mother took 


THE LITTLE ROBBER-MAIDEN. 


119 


hold of her nose, and pinched it till it was red and blue ; 
but this was all done out of pure love. 

When the mother had taken a sup at her flask, and was 
having a nap, the little Robber-maiden went to the Rein- 
deer, and said, “ I should very much like to give you still 
many a tickling with the sharp knife, for then you are so 
amusing ; however, I will untether you and help you out, 
so that you may get back to Lapland. But you must make 
good use of your legs ; and take this little girl for me to 
the palace of the Snow-Queen, where her playfellow is. 
You have heard, I suppose, all she said ; for she spoke loud 
enough, and you were listening.” 

The Reindeer gave a bound for joy. The Robber-maiden 
lifted up little Gerda, and took the precaution to bind her 
fast on the Reindeer’s back ; she even gave her a small 
cushion to sit on. “ Here are your worsted leggins, for it 
will be cold ; but the muff I shall keep for myself, for it is 
so very pretty. But I do not wish you to be cold. Here 
is a pair of lined gloves of my mother’s : they just reach 
up to your elbow. On with them ! Now you look about 
the hands just like my ugly old mother !” 

And Gerda wept for joy. 

“ I can’t bear to see you fretting,” said the little Robber- 
maiden. “ This is just the time when you ought to look 


120 


TIIS SNOW-QUEEN. 


pleased. Here are two loaves and a ham for you, so that 
you won’t starve.” The bread and the meat were fastened 
to the Reindeer’s back ; the little maiden opened the door, 
called in all the dogs, and then with her knife cut the 
rope that fastened the animal, and said to him, “ Now, off 
with you ; but take good care of the little girl !” 

And Gerda stretched out her hands with the large 
wadded gloves towards the Robber-maiden, and said, 
“ Farewell !” and the Reindeer flew on over bush and 
bramble through the great wood, over moor and heath, as 
fast as he could go. 

“Ddsa ! ddsa !” was heard in the sky. It was just as 
if somebody was sneezing. 

These are my old northern-lights,” said the Reindeer; 
“ lobk how they gleam !” And on he now sped still 
quicker, — day and night on he went : the loaves were con- 
sumed, and the ham too; and now they were in Lapland. 


THE LAPLAND WOMAN. 


121 


SIXTH STORY. 

THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN. 

Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which 
looked very miserable ; the roof reached to the ground ; 
and the door -was so low, that the family was obliged to 
creep upon their stomachs when they went in or out. No- 
body was at home except an old Lapland woman, who was 
dressing fish by the light of an oil lamp. And the Rein- 
deer told her the whole of Gerda’s history, but first of all 
his own ; for that seemed to him of much greater impor- 
tance. Gerda was so chilled that she could not speak. 

“ Poor thing,” said the Lapland woman, “ you have far 
to run still. You have more than a hundred miles to go 
before you get to Finland ; there the Snow-Queen has her 
country-house, and burns blue lights every evening. I 
will give you a few words from me, which I will write on 
a dried haberdine, for paper I have none. This you can 
take with you to the Finland woman, and she will be able 
to give you more information than I can.” 

When Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and 
drunk, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried 
haberdine, begged Gerda to take care of them, put her on 


122 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


the Reindeer, bound her fast, and away sprang the animal. 
“ Ddsa ! ddsa !” was again heard in the air ; the most 
charming blue lights burned the whole night in the sky, 
and at last they came to Finland. They knocked at the 
chimney of the Finland woman ; for as to a door, she had 
none. 

There was such a heat inside that the Finland woman 
herself went about almost naked. She was diminutive 
and dirty. She immediately loosened little Gerda’s clothes, 
pulled off her thick gloves and boots ; for otherwise the 
heat would have been too great, — and after laying a piece 
of ice on the Reindeer’s head, read what was written on 
the fish-skin. She read it three times ; she then knew it 
by heart ; so she put the fish into the cupboard, — for it 
might very well be eaten, and she never threw any thing 
away. 

Then the Reindeer related his own story first, and after- 
wards that of little Gerda ; and the Finland woman winked 
her eyes, but said nothing. 

“You are so clever,” said the Reindeer, “you can, I 
know, twist all the winds of the world together in a knot. 
If the seaman loosens one knot, then he has a good wind ; 
if a second, then it blows pretty stiffly ; if he undoes the 
third and fourth, then it rages so that the forests are up- 


THE LAPLAND WOMAN. 


123 


turned. Will you give the little maiden a potion, that she 
may possess the strength of twelve men, and vanquish the 
Snow-Queen ?” 

“The strength of twelve men!” said the Finland woman. 
“Much good that would be!” Then she went to a cup- 
board, and drew out a large skin rolled up. When she 
had unrolled it, strange characters were to be seen written 
thereon ; and the Finland woman read at such a rate that 
the perspiration trickled down her forehead. 

But the Reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and 
Gerda looked so imploringly with tearful eyes at the 
Finland woman, that she winked and drew the Reindeer 
aside into a corner, where they whispered together, while 
the animal got some fresh ice put on his head. 

“ ’Tis true little Kay is at the Snow-Queen’s, and finds 
every thing there quite to his taste ; and he thinks it the 
very best place in the world : but the reason of that is, he 
has a splinter of glass in his eye and in his heart. These 
must be got out first ; otherwise he will never go back to 
mankind, and the Snow-Queen will retain her power over 
him.” 

“ But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which 
will endue her with power over the whole ?” 

“ I can give her no more power than what she has 


124 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


already. Don’t you see how great it is ? Don’t you see 
how men and animals are forced to serve her ; how well 
she gets through the world barefooted? She must not 
hear of her power from us : that power lies in her heart, 
because she is a sweet and innocent child ! If she cannot 
get to the Snow- Queen by herself, and rid little Kay of 
the glass, we cannot help her. Two miles hence the gar- 
den of the Snow-Queen begins ; thither you may carry 
the little girl. Set her down by the large bush with red 
berries, standing in the snow ; don’t stay talking, but hasten 
back as fast as possible.” And now the Finland woman 
placed little Gerda on the Reindeer’s back, and off he ran 
with all imaginable speed. 

“ Oh ! I have not got my boots ! I have not brought 
my gloves !” cried little Gerda. She remarked she was 
without them from the cutting frost : but the Reindeer 
dared not stand still ; on he ran till he came to the great 
bush with the red berries, and there he set Gerda down, 
kissed her mouth, while large bright tears flowed from the 
animal’s eyes, and then back he went as fast as possible. 
There stood poor Gerda now, without shoes or gloves, in 
the very middle of dreadful icy Finland. 

She ran on as fast as she could. There then came a 
whole regiment of snow-flakes, but they did not fall from 


THE LAPLAND WOMAN. 


125 


above, and they were quite bright and shining from the 
Aurora Borealis. The flakes ran along the ground, and 
the nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda well 
remembered how large and strange the snow-flakes ap- 
peared when she once saw them through a magnifying- 
glass ; but now they were large and terrific in another 
manner, — they were all alive. They were the outposts of 
the Snow-Queen. They had the most wondrous shapes ; 
some looked like large ugly porcupines ; others like snakes 
knotted together, with their heads sticking out ; and 
others, again, like small fat bears, with the hair standing 
on end : all were of dazzling whiteness, — all were living 
snow-flakes. 

Little Gerda repeated the Lord’s Prayer. The cold was 
so intense that she could see her own breath, which came 
like smoke out of her mouth. It grew thicker and thicker, 
and took the form of little angels, that grew more and 
more when they touched the earth. All had helms on 
their heads, and lances and shields in their hands ; they 
increased in numbers ; and when Gerda had finished the 
Lord’s Prayer, she was surrounded by a whole legion. 
They thrust at the horrid snow-flakes with their spears, so 
that they flew into a thousand pieces ; and little Gerda 
walked on bravely and in security. The angels patted her 


126 


THE SN0W-C1UEEN. 


hands and feet ; and then she felt the cold less, and went 
on quickly towards the palace of the Snow-Queen. 

But now we shall see how Kay fared. He never 
thought of Gerda, and least of all that she was standing 
before the palace. 


SEVENTH STORY. 

WHAT TOOK PLACE IN THE PALACE OF THE SNOW- 
aUEEN, AND WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARD. 

The walls of the palace were of driving snow, and the 
windows and doors of cutting winds. There were more 
than a hundred halls there, according as the snow was 
driven by the winds. The largest was many miles in 
extent ; all were lighted up by the powerful Aurora Bore- 
alis, and all were so large, so empty, so icy cold, and so 
resplendent ! Mirth never reigned there ; there was never 
even a little bear-ball, with the storm for music, while the 
polar bears went on their hind-legs and showed off their 
steps. Never a little tea-party of white young lady foxes; 
vast, cold, and empty were the halls of the Snow-Queen. 


THE PALACE OF THE SNOW-GIUEEN. 


127 


The northern-lights shone with such precision that one 
could .tell exactly when they were at their highest or low- 
est degree of brightness. In the middle of the empty, 
endless hall of snow, was a frozen lake ; it was cracked in 
a thousand pieces, but each piece was so like the other, 
that it seemed the work of a cunning artificer. In the 
middle of this lake sat the Snow- Queen when she was at 
home ; and then she said she was sitting in the Mirror of 
Understanding, and that this was the only one and the 
best thing in the world. 

Little Kay was quite blue, yes, nearly black with cold ; 
but he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feel- 
ing of cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of 
ice. He was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of 
ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he 
wanted to make something with them ; just as we have 
little flat pieces of wood to make geometrical figures with, 
called the Chinese Puzzle. Kay made all sorts of figures, 
the most complicated, for it was an ice-puzzle for the un- 
derstanding. In his eyes the figures were extraordinarily 
beautiful, and of the utmost importance ; for the bit of 
glass which was in his eye caused this. He found whole 
figures which represented a written word ; but he never 
could manage to represent just the word he wanted, — that 


128 


THE SNOW-CIUEEN. 


ward was “ eternity and the Snow-Queen had said, 
“ If you can discover that figure, you shall be your own 
master, and I will make you a present of the whole world 
and a pair of new skates.” But he could not find it out. 

“ I am going now to the warm lands,” said the Snow- 
Queen. “I must have a look down into the black cal- 
drons.” It was the volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna that she 
meant. “ I will just give them a coating of white, for 
that is as it ought to be ; besides, it is good for the 

'p 

oranges and the grages.” And then away she flew, and 
Kay sat quite alone in the empty halls of ice that were 
miles long, and looked at the blocks of ice, and thought 
till his skull was almost cracked. There he sat quite be- 
numbed and motionless ; one would have imagined he was 
frozen to death. 

Suddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal 
into the palace. The gate was formed of cutting winds ; 
but Gerda repeated her evening prayer, and the winds 
were laid as though they slept ; and the little maiden en- 
tered the vast, empty, cold halls. There she beheld Kay : 
she recognized him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, 
her arms firmly holding him the while, “ Kay, sweet little 
Kay ! Have I then found you at last ?” 

But he sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then little 


THE PALACE OF THE SNOW-QUEEN. 129 

Gerda shed burning tears ; and they fell on his bosom, 
they penetrated to his heart, they thawed the lumps of 
ice, and consumed the splinters of the looking-glass : he 
looked at her, and she sang the hymn : 

“ The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 

And angels descend there the children to greet,” 

Hereupon Kay burst into tears ; he wept so much that 
the splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognized her, 
and shouted, “ Gerda, sweet little Gerda ! where have 
you been so long ? And where have I been ?” He 
looked round him. “ How cold it is here !” said he ; 
“ how empty and cold !” And he held fast by Gerda, 
who laughed and wept for joy. It was so beautiful, that 
even the blocks of ice danced about for joy ; and when 
they were tired and laid themselves down, they formed 
exactly the letters which the Snow-Queen had told him to 
find out ; so now he was his own master, and he would 
have the whole world and a pair of new skates into the 
bargain. 

Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew quite blooming ; 
she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she 
kissed his hands and feet, and he was again well and 
merrv. The Snow-Queen might come back as soon as she 

9 


130 


THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


liked ; there stood his discharge written in resplendent 
masses of ice. 

They took each other by the hand, and wandered forth 
out of the large hall ; they talked of their old grand- 
mother, and of the roses upon the roof ; and wherever 
they went, the winds ceased raging, and the sun burst 
forth. And when they reached the bush with the red 
berries, they found the Reindeer waiting for them. He 
had brought another, a young one, with him, whose udder 
was filled with milk, which he gave to the little ones, and 
kissed their lips. They then carried Kay and Gerda, — 
first to the Finland woman, where they warmed them- 
selves in the warm room, and learned what they were to 
do on their journey home ; and then they went to the Lap- 
land woman, who made some new clothes for them and re- 
paired their sledges. 

The Reindeer and the young hind leaped along beside 
them, and accompanied them to the boundary of the 
country. Here the first vegetation peeped forth ; here 
Kay and Gerda took leave of the Lapland woman. “ Fare- 
well ! farewell !” said they all. And the first green buds 
appeared, the first little birds began to chirrup ; and out 
of the wood came, riding on a magnificent horse, which 
Gerda knew (it was one of the leaders in the golden car- 


THE PALACE OF THE SNOW-QUEEN. 


131 


riage), a young damsel with a bright-red cap on her head, 
and armed with pistols. It was the little Robber-maiden, 
who, tired of being at home, had determined to make a 
journey to the north ; and afterwards in another direction, 
if that did not please her. She recognized Gerda imme- 
diately, and Gerda knew her too. It was a joyful meeting. 

“ You are a fine fellow for tramping about,” said she to 
little Kay ; “ I should like to know, faith, if you deserve 
that one should run from one end of the world to the 
other for your sake ?” 

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and inquired for the 
Prince and Princess. 

“ They are gone abroad,” said the other. 

“ But the Raven ?” asked little Gerda. 

“Oh! the Raven is dead,” answered she. “ His tame 
sweetheart is a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted 
round her leg; she laments most piteously, but it’s all 
mere talk and stuff ! . Now tell me what you’ve been do- 
ing, and how you managed to catch him.” 

And Gerda and Kay both told her their story. 

And “ Schnipp-schnapp-schnurre-basselurre” said the 
Robber-maiden; and she took the hands of each, and 
promised that if she should some day pass through the 
town where they lived, she would come and visit them ; 


132 


THE SNOW-aUEEN. 


and then away she rode. Kay and Gerda took each 
other’s hand : it was lovely spring weather, with abun- 
dance of flowers and of verdure. The church-bells rang, 
and the children recognized the high towers, and the large 
town ; it was that in which they dwell. They entered, 
and hastened up to their Grandmother’s room, where every 
thing was »standing as formerly. The clock said “ tick ! 
tack 1” and the finger moved round ; but as they entered, 
they remarked that they were now grown up. The roses 
on the leads hung blooming in at the open window ; there 
stood the little children’s chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat 
down on them, holding each other by the hand : they both 
had forgotten the cold empty splendor of the Snow-Queen, 
as though it had been a dream. The Grandmother sat in 
the bright sunshine, and read aloud from the Bible : “Un- 
less ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the king- 
dom of heaven.” 

And Kay and Gerda looked in each other’s eyes, and 
all at once they understood the old hymn : 

“ The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 

And angels descend there the children to greet.” 

There sat the two grown-up persons ; grown-up, and 
yet children ; children at least in heart : and it was sum- 
mer-time ; summer, glorious summer ! 


THE 


SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 


Have you ever seen a very, very old clothes-press, 
quite black with age, on Avhich all sorts of flourishes and 
foliage were carved ? Just such a one stood in a certain 
room. It was a legacy from a grandmother, and it was 
carved from top to bottom with roses and tulips ; the most 
curious flourishes were to be seen on it, and between them 
little stags popped out their heads with zig-zag antlers. But 
on the top a whole man was carved. True he was laugh- 
able to look at ; for he showed his teeth, — laughing one 
could not call it, — had goat’s legs, little horns on his head, 
and a long beard. The children in the room always called 
him General-clothes-press-inspector-head-superintendent 
Goatslegs, for this was a name difficult to pronounce, and 
there are very few who get the title : but to cut him out 
in wood, — that was no trifle. However, there he was. 
He looked down upon the table and towards the mirror, 
for there a charming little porcelain Shepherdess was 
standing. Her shoes were gilded, her gown was tastefully 
looped up with a red rose, and she had a golden hat and 


134 


THE SHEPHERDESS AND 


cloak ; in short, she was most exquisite. Close by stood 
a little Chimney-sweep, as black as a coal, but of porcelain 
too. He was just as clean and pretty as another ; as to 
his being a sweep, that was only what he represented : and 
the porcelain manufacturer could just as well have made 
a prince of him as a chimney-sweep, if he had chosen ; 
one was as easy as the other. 

There he stood so prettily with his ladder,* and with a 
little round face as fair and as rosy as that of the Shep- 
herdess. In reality this was a fault ; for a little black he 
certainly ought to have been. He was quite close to the 
Shepherdess ; both stood where they had been placed ; 
and as soon - as they were put there, they had mutually 
promised each other eternal fidelity ; for they suited each 
other exactly, — they were young, they were of the same 
porcelain, and both equally fragile. 

Close to them stood another figure three times as large 
as they were. It was an old Chinese, that could nod his 
head. He was of porcelain too, and said that he was 
grandfather of the little Shepherdess ; but this he could 

* The flues in Germany are much larger than in the houses in 
England ; so much so indeed, that men only are employed as sweeps. 
The lower part being very wide, they have short ladders of about eight 
feet in length to enable them to get up to the narrower part, where 
they then scramble on in the usual way. — C. B, 


THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 


135 


not prove. He asserted, moreover, that he had authority 
over her, and that was the reason he had nodded his assent 
to the General-clotlies-press-inspector-head-superintendent 
Goatslegs, who paid his addresses to the Shepherdess. 

“In him,” said the old Chinese, “you will have a hus- 
band, who, I verily believe, is of mahogany. You will be 
Mrs. Goatslegs, the wife of a General-clothes-press-inspec- 
tor-head-superintendent, who has his shelves full of plate, 
besides what is hidden in secret drawers and recesses.” 

“ I will not go into the dark cupboard,” said the little 
Shepherdess ; “ I have heard say that he has eleven wives 
of porcelain in there already.” 

“Then you may be the twelfth,” said the Chinese. 
“ To-night, as soon as the old clothes-press cracks, as sure 
as I am a Chinese, we will keep the wedding.” And then 
he nodded his head, and fell asleep. 

But the little Shepherdess wept, and looked at her 
beloved, — at the porcelain Chimney-sweep. 

“I implore you,” said she, “fly hence with me; for 
here it is impossible for us to remain.” 

“ I will do all you ask,” said the little Chimney-sweep. 
“ Let us instantly leave this place. I think my trade will 
enable me to support you.” 


136 


THE SHEPHERDESS AND 


“ If we were only down from the table,” said she. “ I 
shall not be happy till we are far from here, and free.” 

He consoled her, and showed her how she was to set 
her little foot on the carved border and on the gilded 
foliage which twined around the leg of the table, brought 
his ladder to her assistance, and at last both were on the 
floor ; but when they looked towards the old clothes-press, 
they observed a great stir. All the carved stags stretched 
their heads out farther, raised their antlers, and turned 
round their heads. The General-clothes-press-inspector- 
head-superintendent gave a jump, and called to the old 
Chinese, “ They are eloping ! the} 7- are eloping !” 

At this she grew a little frightened, and jumped quickly 
over the ridge into the drawer. 

Here lay three or four packs of cards, which were not 
complete, and a little puppet-show, which was set up as 
well as it was possible to do. A play was being per- 
formed, and all the ladies. Diamonds as well as Hearts, 
Clubs and Spades, sat in the front row, and fanned them- 
selves with the tulips they held in their hands, while 
behind them stood the varlets. The play was about two 
persons who could not have each other; at which the 
Shepherdess wept, for it was her own history. 


THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 


137 


“I cannot bear it longer,” said she ; “ I must get out of 
the drawer.” 

But when she had got down on the floor, and looked up 
to the table, she saw that the old Chinese was awake, and 
that his whole body was rocking. 

“ The old Chinese is coming !” cried the little Shep- 
herdess ; and down she fell on her porcelain knee, so 
frightened was she. 

“ A thought has struck me,” said the Chimney-sweep ; 
“ let us creep into the great Pot-pourri Jar that stands in 
the corner ; there we can lie on roses and lavender, and if 
he comes after us, throw dust in his eyes.” 

“ ’Tis of no use,” said she. “ Besides, I know that the 
old Chinese and the Pot-pourri Jar were once betrothed ; 
and when one has been once on such terms, a little regard 
always lingers behind. No ; for us there is nothing left 
but to wander forth into the wide world.” 

“ Have you really courage to go forth with me into the 
wide world ?” asked the Chimney-sweep tenderly. “ Have 
you considered how large it is, and that we can never come 
back here again ?” 

“ I have,” said she. 

And the Sweep gazed fixedly upon her, and then said, 
“ My way lies up the chimney. Have you really courage 


138 


THE SHEPHERDESS AND 


to go with me through the stove, and to creep through all 
the flues. We shall then get into the main flue, after 
which I am not at a loss what to do. Up we mount, then, 
so high, that they can never reach us ; and at the top is 
an opening that leads out into the world.” 

And he led her towards the door of the stove. 

“ It looks quite black,” said she ; but still she went with 
him, and on through all the intricacies of the interior, and 
through the flues, where a pitchy darkness reigned. 

“ We are now in the chimney,” said she ; “and behold, 
behold ! above us is shining the loveliest star !” 

It was a real star in the sky that shone straight down 
upon them, as if to show them the way. They climbed 
and they crept higher and higher. It was a frightful way ; 
but he lifted her up, he held her, and showed her the 
best places on which to put her little porcelain feet ; and 
thus they reached the top of the chimney, and seated 
themselves on the edge of it ; for they were tired, which 
is not to be w*ondered at. 

The heaven and all its stars were above them, and all 
the roofs of the town below them ; they could see far 
around, far away into the world. The poor Shepherdess 
had never pictured it to herself thus ; she leaned her little 


THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 


139 


head on her Sweep, and wept so bitterly that all the gild- 
ing of her girdle came off. 

“ Oh, this is too much !” said she ; “ I cannot bear it. 
The world is too large. Oh, were I but again on the lit- 
tle table under the looking-glass! I shall rever be happy 
till I am there again. I have followed you into the wide 
world ; now, if you really love me, you may follow me 
home again.” 

And the Chimney-sweep spoke sensibly to her, spoke 
to her about the old Chinese and the General- clothes- 
press-inspector-head-superintendent ; but she sobbed so 
violently, and kissed her little Sweep so passionately, that 
he was obliged to give way, although it was not right to 
do so. 

So now down they climbed again with great difficulty, 
crept through the flue and into the stove, where they lis- 
tened behind the door, to discover if any body was in the 
room. It was quite still ; they peeped, and there, on the 
floor, in the middle of the room, lay the old Chinese. He 
had fallen from the table in trying to follow the fugitives, 
and was broken in three pieces ; his whole back was but a 
stump, and his head had rolled into a corner, while Gen- 
eral-clothes-press-inspector-head-superintendent Goatslegs 
was standing where he had ever stood, absorbed in thought. 


140 


THE SHEPHERDESS AND 


“ How dreadful !” said the little Shepherdess. “ My 
old grandfather is dashed to pieces, and we are the cause. 
I never can survive the accident.” And she wrung her 
little hands in agony. 

“He can be mended,” said the Chimney-sweep; “he 
can easily be mended. Only do not be so hast}'. If we 
glue his back together, and rivet his neck well, he will be 
as good as new, and will be able to say enough disagree- 
able things to us yet.” 

“Do you think so?” said she; and then they clam- 
bered up again to the table on which they had stood 
before. 

“You see,” said the Sweep, “we might have spared 
ourselves these disagreeables, after all.” 

“ If we had but mended my old grandfather !” said the 
Shepherdess. “ Does it cost much ?” 

And mended he was. The family had his back glued, 
and his neck riveted, so that he was as good as new, ex- 
cept that he could not nod. 

“Meseems, you have grown haughty since you were 
dashed to pieces,” said General-clothes-press-inspector- 
head-superintendent Goatslegs. “ However, I think there 
is not so very much to be proud of. Am I to have her, 
or am I not ?” 


THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 


141 


The Chimney-sweep and the little Shepherdess looked 
so touchingly at the old Chinese ; they feared he would 
nod, but he could not, and it was disagreeable to him to 
tell a stranger that he had constantly a rivet in his neck. 
So the little porcelain personages remained together. They 
blessed the old grandfather’s rivet, and loved each other 
till they fell to pieces. 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 



EVERAL large Lizards 
were running quickly 
into the cleft of an old 
tree : they could under- 
stand each other perfect- 
ly, for they all spoke the 
lizard language. 

“ What a noise there is 
in the old Elfin mound !” 
said one of the Lizards. “What a rumbling 
and uproar ! For two nights I have not been 
able to close my eyes, and might just as well 
have had a toothache, for then I certainly 
should not have slept.’’ 

“ There is a something going on there,” said the other 
Lizard. “ They let the mound stand on four red poles till 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


143 


the crowing of the cock, to have it thoroughly aired ; 
and the Elfin damsels have learnt new dances, in which 
there is some stamping. A something is going on, I’m 
sure.” 

“ Yes ; I have spoken to an Earthworm of my acquaint- 
ane,” said the third Lizard. “ The Earthworm came direct 
from the mound, where day and night he had been ruma- 
ging about in the ground. He had heard a good deal ; for 
he can see nothing, poor wretch, but eaves-dropping and 
listening he understands to perfection. Visitors are ex- 
pected at the Elfin mound ; visitors of rank, but who they 
were, the Earthworm either w<®Id not or could not say. 
All the Jacks-o’-the lantern have been ordered to prepare 
a procession by torch-light ; and all the silver and gold, of 
which there is plenty in the Elfin mound, will be polished 
and laid in the moonshine.” 

“But who can the strangers be?” said all the Lizards. 
“ What can be going on ? Listen ! what a humming and 
buzzing!” 

At the same instant the Elfin mound opened, and an 
elderly Elfin damsel, without a back, but for the rest very 
respectably dressed, came tripping forth. It was the old 
Elfin King’s housekeeper ; she was distantly related to him, 
and wore an amber heart on her forehead. Her feet were 


144 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


so nimble — trip — trap — trip — trap ! — how she skipped 
along, right away to the moor to the Night-raven. 

“ You will be invited to the Elfin mound, and that to- 
night,” said she. “ But would you not do us a great favor, 
and take charge of the invitations ? As you do not give 
parties yourself, you must do us this service. Strangers of 
high rank are coming to us ; magicians of no small impor- 
tance, let me tell you ; and so the old Elfin King wants to 
show himself off to advantage.” 

“ Who is to be invited ?” asked the Night-raven. 

“Why, to the grand ball every- body may come ; men, 
even, it they do but speal? in their sleep, or are able to do 
something in our way. But the principal banquet is to be 
very select ; those of the first rank only are to be invited. 
I have had a long discussion with the Elfin King ; for, 
according to my notions', we cannot even ask ghosts. The 
Sea-god and his daughters must be invited first ; ’tis true, 
they don’t much like coming on dry land, but they will 
have probably a wet stone to sit upon, or maybe some- 
thing better still ; and then, I think, they will not refuse 
for this once. We must have the old Mountain Dwarfs of 
the first class, with tails ; the Elf of the Brook, and the 
Brownie ; and then, I think, we must not omit the Swart 
Elf, and the Skeleton Horse : they belong, it is true, to the 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


145 


clergy, who are not of our sort ; however, ’tis their office, 
and they are, moreover, nearly related to us, and are con- 
tinually paying us visits.” 

“ Caw !” said the Night-raven, and flew away to invite 
the company. 

The Elfin maidens were already dancing on the Elfin 
mound : they danced with long shawls, woven of haze 
and moonshine ; and to all who like this sort of dancing, it 
seems pretty. In the centre of the Elfin mound was the 
great hall, splendidly ornamented ; the floor was washed 
with moonshine, and the walls were rubbed with witches* 
fat, so that they shone in the light like tulip-leaves. In 
the kitchen there were a great quantity of frogs among the 
dishes ; adders’ skins, with little children’s fingers inside ; 
salad of mushroom-seed ; wet mice’s snouts and hemlock ; 
beer, from the brewery of the old Witch of the Moor ; 
sparkling saltpetre wine from a grave-cellar, — all very sub- 
stantial eating : rusty nails and church-window glass were 
among the delicacies and kick-sliaws. 

The old Elfin King had his golden crown polished with 
pounded slate-pencil. It was the pencil of the head-scholar : 
and to obtain this one is very difficult for the Elfin King. 

They hung up the curtains in the bed-chamber, and fast- 
10 


146 


THE ELFIN MOUND- 


ened them with adder spittle. There was, indeed, a hum- 
ming and a buzzing in the Elfin mound ! 

“ Now we must perfume the place with singed hair and 
pig’s bristles ; and then I think I shall have done my share 
of the business,” said the little Elfin damsel. 

“Dear papa,” said the least of the daughters, “ shall I 
not know who the high visitors are ?” 

“ Well then,” said he, “ I suppose I must tell you. Two 
of my daughters are to show themselves off, in order to get 
married. Two will certainly be married. The aged Moun- 
tain Elf of Norway, who lives in the old Dovre-field, and 
possesses many craggy castles, and a gold-mine too, — which 
is a better thing than one imagines, — is coming here with 
his two sons ; and they are to choose themselves wives. 
The hoary Elf is an honest old Norwegian, merry and 
straightforward. I have known him since many a long day 
when we drank together to better acquaintance and good 
fellowship. He came here to fetch his wife, — she is dead 
now, — who was the daughter of the Rock-king. Oh, how 
I long to see the old northern Elf ! His sons, people say, 
are coarse blustering fellows ; but maybe one wrongs them, 
and when older they will improve.” 

“ And when will they come ?” asked his daughter. 

“That depends on wind and weather,” said the Elfin 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


147 


King. “ They travel economically ; they will come here by 
water. I wish they would go through Sweden ; but the 
old gentleman has no inclination that way. He does not 
keep pace with the time ; and that I can’t bear.” 

At the same moment two Jacks-o’-the-lantern came hop- 
ping in, one faster than the other, and for that reason one 
was first. 

“ They’re coming ! they’re coming !” cried they. 

“ Give me my crown : and let me stand in the moon- 
shine,” said the Elfin King. 

The daughters held up their long shawls and bowed to 
the earth. 

There stood the hoary Mountain Elf, with a crown of 
hardened icicles and polished fir-cones on his head, and 
wrapped up in a mantle of fur and boots of the same. His 
sons, on the contrary, went with open throats, for they dis- 
dained the cold. 

“Is tliat a mound?” asked the lesser of the youths, 
pointing to Elfin-home. “ In Norway we call such a thing 
a hole.” 

“ Boy,” said the father, “ a mound rises upwards, and a 
hole goes inwards. Have you no eyes in your head V y 

Now they went in to the Elfin mound, where there was 
very choice company, certainly; and had come together 


148 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


with such speed, one might have thought they had been 
borne thither on the breeze ; however, the arrangements for 
every one were neat and pretty. The sea-folk sat at table 
in large water butts ; and they said they felt just as if they 
were at home. All observed good manners at the table, 
except the two little Norwegian Mountain Elves, who put 
their feet on the board, for they thought that all they did 
was becoming. 

“ Take your feet away from the plates,” said the old 
Elf; and then they obeyed, although not immediately. 
They tickled the ladies next them with fir-cones ; then 
they pulled off their boots, to be more at their ease, and 
gave them to the ladies to hold for them ; but their father 
was very different. He told about the proud Norwegian 
rocks, and of the waterfalls, which, covered with foam, 
dashed downwards, raging and roaring like thunder ; he 
told about the salmon, that leaps up against the falling 
waters, when the Spirit of the flood plays on her golden 
harp. He related about the clear winter nights, when 
the bells on the sledges jingle, and the youths run with 
flaming torches over the smooth ice, which is so transparent 
that they could see how affrighted the fishes were beneath 
their feet. He, indeed, could recount so that one saw 
and heard the things he described ; when, huzza ! all of a 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


149 


sudden, the old Elf gave one of the Elfin damsels a smack- 
ing kiss ; and yet they were not even distantly related. 

The Elfin maidens were now to dance, simple as well as 
stamping dances ; and then came the most difficult one of 
all, the so-called “ Dance out of the dance.” Confound it ! 
their legs grew so long, one did not know which was the 
beginning nor which was the end, — one could not distin- 
guish legs from arms, all was twirling about in the air like 
saw-dust ; and they went whizzing round to such a degree 
that the Skeleton Horse grew quite sick, and was obliged 
to leave the table. 

“ Brrrrr !” said the gray-headed Elf ; “ that’s a regular 
Highland fling, as it’s called. But what can they do be- 
sides spinning about like a whirlwind ?” 

“That you shall see,” said the King, calling the young- 
est of his daughters. She was as delicate and fair as moon- 
light, and was the daintiest of all the sisters. She put a 
white wand in her mouth, and vanished. That was her 
art. 

But the old Mountain Elf said, “ This was an art he 
should not at all like in his wife, nor did he think his sons 
would either.” 

The other could walk beside her own self, as though 
she had a shadow, which is a thing Elves never have. 


150 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


The third one’s talent was of a very different kind ; she 
had learned in the brewery of the Witch of the Moor, and 
she knew how to lard alder-wood with glow-worms. 

“ She would make a good housewife,” said the Mountain 
Elf, blinking, for he did not at all like drinking so much. 

Then came the fourth Elfin maiden ; she had a large 
golden harp, and when she touched the first string, every- 
body lifted up the left foot, for the Elves are all left-sided ; 
and when she touched the next, every-body was forced to 
do whatever she pleased. 

“ That is a dangerous damsel,” said the Mountain Elf ; 
but both his sons went out of the Elfin mound, for they 
were tired of it. 

“What can the next daughter do ?” asked the old Elf. 

“I have learned to love the Norwegians,” said she; 
“ and I will not marry unless I can go to Norway.” 

But the youngest of the sisters whispered into the old 
Elf ’s ear, “ She only says that, because she has heard, in 
an old Norwegian rhyme, that when even the world is at 
an end, the rocks of Norway will stand firm ; and that’s 
the reason she wants to go there, for she is greatly afraid 
of death.” 

“ Ho ! ho !” said the old Elf ; “ that’s the way the wind 
blows, is it ? But what can the seventh and last do ?” 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


151 


“ The sixth comes before the seventh,” said the Elfin 
King, for he knew how to count ; but the sixth at first 
would not come forward. 

“ I can do nothing except tell people the truth,” said 
she. “No one troubles about me, and I have enough to 
do to get my shroud ready.” 

Now came the seventh and last. And what could she 
do ? She could tell as many fairy tales as she chose. 

“ Here are my five fingers,” said the old Mountain Elf. 
“ For each one tell me a story.” 

And the Elfin maiden took hold of him by the wrist, 
and he laughed till he was almost choked ; and when she 
came to the finger that wore a golden ring, just as if it 
knew that matrimony was going on, the old Elf said, 
“ Hold fast what you have ! The hand is yours ! I will 
take you myself to wife !” 

And the Elfin maiden said that the fairy-tale to the 
ring-finger and to the little finger were wanting. 

“Oh, we’ll hear them in winter,” said the old Elf, “and 
about the fir-tree too, and about the birch, and the gifts of 
the wood-nymphs, and about the crackling frost. You 
shall have opportunities enough of telling stories, for no 
one understands that yonder. And there we will sit in 
our rocky dwelling, where the pine-torch is burning, and 


152 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


where we drink mead out of the golden horns of the old 
Norwegian kings ; I got some as a present from the 
Water-spirit. And when we are sitting so together, Garbo 
will come to pay us a visit, and he will sing to you all the 
songs of the mountain maidens. How merry we shall be ! 
The salmon will leap in the waterfall, and dash against the 
walls of rock ; but he will not be able to come in to us, 
after all ! Yes, yes ; one leads a happy, comfortable life 
in dear old Norway ! But where are the boys ?” 

Where were they ? Why, they were running about the 
fields, blowing out the wills-o’-the wisp that were coming 
quite orderly to have a procession with torches. 

“What’s all this harum-scarum about?” said the old 
Elf. “ I have taken a step-mother for you ; methinks now 
you may choose a wife too.” 

But they said they liked speechifying and boon compan- 
ionship better, and had no taste for matrimony ; and so 
they made speeches, tossed off their glasses, and turned 
them topsy-turvy, to show that they were quite empty. 
They then pulled off their coats, and lay down on the table 
to sleep. But the old Elf danced round the room with his 
young bride, and exchanged boots with her ; for that is 
much more genteel than exchanging rings. 

“ The cock is crowing !” said the elderly damsel who 


THE ELFIN MOUND. 


153 


attended to the housekeeping. “ We must now bolt the 
shutters, lest the sun should spoil our complexions .’ 7 

And then the mound closed. 

The Lizards ran about and up and down the cleft tree, 
and one said to the other, “How much I like the old 
Mountain Elf!” 

“I like the meny boys better,” said the Earthworm; 
but then he could not see, poor wretch ! 


THE LEAP-FROG. 


A Flea, a Grasshopper, and a Leap-frog once wanted 
to see which could jump highest ; and they invited the 
whole world, and every-body else besides who chose to 
come, to see the festival. Three famous jumpers were 
they, as every one would say, when they all met together 
in the room. 

“ I will give my daughter to him who jumps highest,” 
exclaimed the King ; “ for it is not so amusing where there 
is no prize to jump for.” 

The Flea was the first to step forward. He had ex- 
quisite manners, and bowed to the company on all sides ; 
for he had noble blood, and was, moreover, accustomed to 
the society of man alone ; and that makes a great difference. 

Then came the Grasshopper. He was considerably 
heavier, but he was well-mannered, aud wore a green uni- 
form, which he had by right of birth ; he said, moreover, 
that he belonged to a very ancient Egyptian family, and 
that in the house where he then was he was thought much 
of. The fact was, he had been just brought out of the 





THE LEAP-FROG. 


155 


fields, and put in a pasteboard house, three stories high, all 
made of court-cards with the colored side inwards ; and 
doors and windows cut out of the body of the Queen of 
Hearts. “I sing so well,” said he, “that sixteen * native 
grasshoppers who have *chirped from infancy, and yet got 
no house built of cards to live in, grew thinner than they 
were before for sheer vexation when they heard me.” 

It was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper gave an 
account of themselves, and thought they were quite good 
enough to marry a princess. 

The Leap-frog said nothing ; but people gave it as their 
opinion that he therefore thought the more ; and when the 
house-dog snuffed at him with his nose, he confessed the 
Leap-frog -was of good family. The old councillor, who 
had had three orders given him to make him hold his 
tongue, asserted that the Leap-frog was a prophet ; for 
that one could see on his back if there would be a severe 
or mild winter, and that was what one could not see even 
on the back of the man who writes the almanac. 

“ I say nothing, it is true,” exclaimed the King ; “ but 
I have my own opinion notwithstanding.” 

Now the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so 
high that nobody could see where he went to ; so they all 


156 


THE LEAP-FROG. 


asserted he had not jumped at all ; and that was dishon- 
orable. 

The Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he 
leaped into the King’s face, who said that was ill-mannered. 

The Leap-frog stood still for a Tong time lost in thought ; 
it was believed at last he would not jump at all. 

“ I only hope he is not unwell,” said the house-dog ; 
when, pop ! he made a jump all on one side into the lap 
of the Princess, who was sitting on a little golden stool 
close by. 

Hereupon the King said, “ There is nothing above my 
daughter ; therefore to bound up to her is the highest jump 
that can be made ; but for this, one must possess under- 
standing, and the Leap-frog has shown that he has under- 
standing. He is brave and intellectual.” 

And so he won the Princess. 

“ It’s all the same to me,” said the Flea ; “ she may 
have the old Leap-frog, for all I care. I jumped the high- 
est ; but in this world merit seldom meets its reward. A 
fine exterior is what people look at nowadays. 

The Flea then went into foreign service, where it is said, 
he was killed. 

The Grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and re- 
flected on worldly things ; and he said too, " Yes, a fine 


THE LEAP-FROG. 


157 


exterior is every thing — a fine exterior is what people care 
about.” And then he began chirping his peculiar melan- 
choly song, from which we have taken this history ; and 
which may, very possibly, be all untrue, although it does 
stand here printed in black and white. 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 




NCE upon a time there was a 
little boy who had taken cold. 
He had gone out and got his 
feet wet ; though nobody could 
imagine how it had happened, 
for it was quite dry weather. 
So- his mother undressed him, 
put him to bed, and had the tea-pot brought in, to make 
him a good cup of elder-flower tea. Just at that moment 
the merry old man came in who lived up a-top of the 
house all alone ; for he had neither wife nor children, — 
but he liked children very much, and knew so many fairy- 
tales, that it was quite delightful. 

“Now drink your tea/’ said the boy’s mother; “then, 
perhaps, you may hear a fairy-tale.” 



THE ELDER-BUSH. 


159 


“ If I had but something new to tell,” said the old man. 
“ But how did the child get his feet wet?” 

“ That is the very thing that nobody can make out,” 
said his mother. 

“ Am I to hear a fairy-tale ?” asked the little boy. 

“ Yes, if you can tell me exactly 4 -^for I must know that 
first, — how deep the gutter is in the little street opposite, 
that you pass through in going to school ?” 

“Just up to the middle of my boot,” said the child; 
“ but then I must go into the deep hole.” 

“ Ah, ah ! that’s where the wet feet came from,” said 
the old man. “ I ought now to tell you a story ; but I 
don’t know any more. 

“You can make one in a moment,” said the little boy. 
“ My mother says that all you look at can be turned into 
a fairy-tale ; and that you can' find a story in every thing.” 

“ Yes, but such tales and stories are good for nothing. 
The right sort come of themselves ; they tap at my fore- 
head and say, ‘ Here we are.’ ” 

“Won’t there be a tap soon?” asked the little boy. 
And his mother laughed, put some elder-flowers in the 
tea-pot, and poured boiling water upon them. 

“ Do tell me something ! Pray do !” 

“ Yes, if a fairy-tale would come of its own accord ; but 


160 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


they are proud and haughty, and come only when they 
choose. Stop !” said he, all on a sudden ; “ I have it ! 
Pay attention ! There is one in the tea-pot !” 

And the little boy looked at the tea-pot. The cover 
rose more and more ; and the elder-flowers came forth so 
fresh and white, and slipt up long branches. Out of the 
spout even did they spread themselves on all sides, and 
grew larger and larger ; it was a splendid Elder-bush, a 
whole tree ; and it reached into the very bed, and pushed 
the curtains aside. How it bloomed ! And what an 
odor! In the middle of the bush sat a friendly -looking 
old woman in a most strange dress. It was quite green, 
like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with large 
white elder-flowers ; so that at first one could not tell 
whether it was a stuff, or a natural green and real flowers. 

“ What’s that woman’s name ?” asked the little boy. 

“The Greeks and Romans,” said the old man, “called 
her a Dryad ; but that we do not understand. The people 
who live in the New Booths* have a much better name for 
her ; they call her * old Granny,’ — and she it is to whom 
you are to pay attention. Now listen, and look at the 
beautiful Elder-bush. 

“Just such another large blooming Elder-tree stands 
* A row of buildings for seamen in Copenhagen. 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


161 


near the New Booths. It grew there in the corner of a 
little miserable court-yard ; and under it sat of an after- 
noon, in the most splendid sunshine, two old people ; an 
old, old seaman, and his old, old wife. They had great- 
grandchildren, and were soon to celebrate the fiftieth an- 
niversary of their marriage ; but they could not exactly 
recollect the date : and old Granny sat in the tree, and 
looked as pleased as now. ‘ I know the date/ said she ; 
but those below did not hear her, for they were talking 
about old times. 

“ * Yes, can’t you remember when we were very little/ 
said the old seaman, * and ran and played about ? it was 
the very same court-yard where we now are, and we stuck 
slips in the ground, and made a garden.’ 

“ * I remember it well/ said the old woman ; ‘ I remem- 
ber it quite well. We watered the slips, and one of them 
was an Elder-bush. It took root, put forth green shoots, 
and grew up to be the large tree under which we old folks 
are now sitting.’ 

« * To be sure,’ said he. * And there in the corner stood 
a water-pail, where I used to swim my boats.’ 

“ ‘True; but first we went to school to learn somewhat/ 
said she ; * and then we were confirmed. We both cried ; 
but in the afternoon we went up the Round Tower, and 

11 


162 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


looked down on Copenhagen, and far far away over the 
water ; then we went to Friedericksberg, where the King 
and the Queen were sailing about in their splendid 
barges.’ 

‘“But I had a different sort of sailing to that, later ; 
and that, too, for many a year ; a long way off, on great 
voyages.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, many a time have I wept for your sake,’ said 
she. ‘ I thought you were dead and gone, and lying down 
in the deep waters. Many a night have I got up to see if 
the wind had not changed: and changed it had sure 
enough ; but you never came. I remember so well one 
day, when the rain was pouring down in torrents, the scav- 
engers were before the house where I was in service, and 
I had come up with the dust, and remained standing at the 
door — it was dreadful weather — when just as I was there, 
the postman came and gave me a letter. It was from you ! 
What a tour that letter had made ! I opened it instantly 
and read : I laughed and wept. I was so happy. In it I 
read that you were in warm lands where the coffee-tree 
grows. What a blessed land that must be ! You related 
so much, and I saw it all while the rain was pouring down, 
and I standing there with the dust-box. At the same 
moment came some one who embraced me.’ 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


163 


“ ‘ Yes ; you gave him a good box on his ear, that made 
it tingle !’ 

“ ‘ But I did not know it was you. You arrived as soon 
as your letter, and you were so handsome, — that you still 
are, — and had a long yellow silk handkerchief round your 
neck, and a bran new hat on : oh, you were so dashing ! 
Good heavens ! what weather it was, and what a state the 
street was in !’ 

“ ‘And then we married,’ said he; ‘don’t you remem- 
ber ? And then we had our first little boy, and then Mary, 
and Nicholas, and Peter, and Christian.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, and how they all grew up to be honest people, 
and were beloved by every-body.’ 

“ ‘ And their children also have children,’ said the old 
sailor ; ‘ yes, those are our grandchildren full of strength 
and vigor. It was, methinks, about this season that we 
had our wedding.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, this very day is the fiftieth anniversary of the 
marriage,’ said Old Granny, sticking her head between the 
two old people ; who thought it was their neighbor who 
nodded to them. They looked at each other, and held one 
another by the hand. Soon after came their children and 
their grandchildren ; for they knew well enough that it 
was the day of the fiftieth anniversary, and had come with 


164 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


their gratulations that very morning ; but the old people 
had forgotten it, although they were able to remember all 
that had happened many years ago. And the Elder-bush 
sent forth a strong odor in the sun that was just about to 
set, and shone right in the old people’s faces. They both 
looked so rosy-cheeked ; and the youngest of the grand- 
children danced around them, and called out quite de- 
lighted, that there was to be something very splendid 
that evening, — they were all to have hot potatoes. And 
old Nanny nodded in the bush, and shouted * hurrah !’ 
with the rest.” 

“ But that is no fairy-tale,” said the little boy, who was 
listening to the story. 

“ The thing is, you must understand it,” said the nar- 
rator ; “ let us ask old Nanny.” 

“ That was no fairy tale, ’tis true,” said old Nanny ; 
“ but now it’s coming. The most wonderful fairy-tales 
grow out of that which is reality ; were that not the case, 
you know, my magnificent Elder-bush could not have 
grown out of the tea-pot.” And then she took the little 
boy out of bed, laid him on her bosom, and the branches 
of the Elder-tree, full of flowers, closed around her. They 
sat in an aerial dwelling, and it flew with thém through 
the air. Oh, it was wondrous beautiful ! Old Nanny had 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


165 


grown all of a sudden a young and pretty maiden ; but her 
robe was still the same green stuff with white flowers, 
which she had worn before. On her bosom she had a real 
elder-flower, and in her yellow waving hair a wreath of the 
flowers ; her eyes were so large and blue that it was a 
pleasure to look at them ; she kissed the boy, and now 
they were of the same age and felt alike. 

Hand in hand they went out of the bower, and they 
were standing in the beautiful garden of their home. Near 
the green lawn papa’s walking-stick was tied, and for the 
little ones it seemed to be endowed with life ; for as soon 
as they got astride it, the round polished knob was turned 
into a magnificent neighing head, a long black mane flut- 
tered in the breeze, and four slender yet strong legs shot 
out. The animal was strong and handsome, and away 
they went at full gallop round the lawn. “ Huzza ! now 
we are riding miles off,” said the boy ; “ we are riding 
away to the castle where we were last year!” And on 
they rode round the grass-plot ; and the little maiden, 
who, we know, was no one else but old Nanny, kept on 
crying out, “ Now we are in the country ! Don’t you see 
the farm-house yonder ? and there is an elder-tree stand- 
ing beside it ; and the cock is scraping away the earth for 
the hens, look, how he struts ! And now we are close to 


166 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


the church. It lies high upon the hill, between the large 
oak trees, one of which is half-decayed. And now we are 
by the smithy, where the fire is blazing, and where the 
half-naked men are banging with their hammers till the 
sparks fly about. Away ! away ! to the beautiful country- 
seat !” And all that the little maiden, who sat behind on 
the stick, spoke of flew by in reality. The boy saw it all, 
and yet they were only going round the grass-plot. Then 
they played in a side avenue, and marked out a little gar- 
den on the earth ; and they took elder-blossoms from their 
hair, planted them, and they grew just like those the old 
people planted when they were children, as related before. 
They went hand in hand, as the old people had done when 
they were children ; but not to the Round Tower or to 
Friedericksberg ; no, the little damsel wound her arms 
round the boy, and then they flew far away through all 
Denmark. And spring came, and summer ; and then it 
was autumn, and then winter; and a thousand pictures 
were reflected in the eye and in the heart of the boy ; and 
the little girl always sang to him, “ This you will never 
forget.” And during their whole flight the Elder-tree 
smelt so sweet and odorous ; he remarked the roses and 
the fresh beeches, but the Elder- tree had a more wondrous 
fragrance, for its flowers hung on the breast of the little 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


167 


maiden ; and there too did he often lay his head during 
the flight. 

“ It is lovely here in Spring !” said the young maiden. 
And they stood in a beech- wood that had just put on its 
first green, where the woodroof * at their feet sent forth its 
fragrance, and the pale-red anemony looked so pretty among 
the verdure. “ Oh, would it were always spring in the 
sweetly-smelling Danish beech-forests !” 

** It is lovely here in Summer !” said she. And she flew 
past old castles of by-gone days of chivalry, where the red 
walls and the embattled gables were mirrored in the canal, 
where the swans were swimming, and peered up into the 
old cool avenues. In the fields the corn was waving like 
the sea ; in the ditches red and yellow flowers were growing ; 
while wild drone-flowers and blooming convolvuluses were 
creeping in the hedges ; and towards evening rose the moon 
round and large, and the hay-cocks in the meadows smelt 
so sweetly. “ This one never forgets !” 

‘"It is lovely here in Autumn ! 2 ’ said the little maiden. 
And suddenly the atmosphere grew as blue again as before ; 
the forest grew red, and green, and yellow-colored. The 
dogs came leaping along, and whole flocks of wild-fowl 
flew over the cairn, where blackberry-bushes were hanging 
* Asperula odorata. 


168 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


round the old stones. The sea was dark blue, covered 
with ships full of white sails ; and in the barn old women, 
maidens, and children were sitting, picking hops into a large 
cask : the young sang songs, but the old told fairy-tales 
of mountain-sprites and soothsayers. Nothing could be 
more charming. 

“It is delightful here in Winter!” said the little maiden. 
And all the trees were covered with hoar-frost ; they looked 
like white corals ; the snow crackled under foot, as if one 
had new boots on ; and one falling star after the other was 
seen in the sky. The Christmas-tree was lighted in the 
room ; presents were there, and good humor reigned. In 
the country the violin sounded in the room of the peasant ; 
the newly -baked cakes were attacked ; even the poorest 
child said, “ It is really delightful here in Winter !” 

Yes, it was delightful ; and the little maiden showed the 
boy every thing ; and the Elder-tree still was fragrant, and 
the red flag, with the white cross, was still waving : the 
flag under which the old seaman in the New Booths 'had 
sailed. And the boy grew up to be a lad, and was to go 
forth in the wide world, — far, far away to warm lands, 
where the coffee-tree grows ; but at his departure the little 
maiden took an elder-blossom from her bosom, and gave it 
him to keep ; and it was placed between the leaves of his 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


169 


Prayer-Book : and when in foreign lands he opened the 
book, it was always at the place where the keepsake-flower 
lay ; and the more he looked at it, the fresher it became ; 
he felt, as it were, the fragrance of the Danish groves, and 
from among the leaves of the flowers he could distinctly 
see the little maiden, peeping forth with her bright blue 
eyes ; — and then she whispered, “ It is delightful here in 
Spring* Summer, Autumn, and Winter and a hundred 
visions glided before his mind. 

Thus passed many years, and he was now an old man, 
and sat with his old wife under the blooming tree. They 
held each other by the hand, as the old grandfather and 
grandmother yonder in the New Booths did, and they talked 
exactly like them of old times, and of the fiftieth anniver- 
sary of their wedding. The little maiden, with the blue 
eyes, and with elder-blossoms in her hair, sat in the tree, 
nodded to both of them, and said, “ To-day is the fiftieth 
anniversary !” And then she took two flowers out of her 
hair, and kissed them. First, they shone like silver, then 
like gold ; and when they laid them on the heads of the 
old people, each flower became a golden crown. So there 
they both sat, like a king and a queen, under the fragrant 
tree, that looked exactly like an elder : the old man told 
his wife the story of “ Old Nanny,” as it had been told 


170 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


him when a boy. And it seemed to both of them it con- 
tained much that resembled their own history ; and those 
parts that were like it pleased them best. 

“Thus it is,” said the little maiden in the tree, “some 
call me * Old Nanny,’ others a ‘ Dryad but, in reality, my 
name is < Remembrance ’tis I who sit in the tree that 
grows and grows ! I can remember ; I can tell things ! 
Let me see if you have my flower still ?” 

And the old man opened his Prayer-Book. There lay 
the elder-blossom, as fresh as if it had been placed there 
but a short time before ; and Remembrance nodded, and 
the old people, decked with crowns of gold, sat in the flush 
of the evening sun. They closed their eyes, and — and — ! 
Yes, that’s the end of the story ! 

The little boy lay in his bed ; he did not know if he had 
dreamed or not, or if he had been listening while some one 
told him the story. The tea-pot was standing on the table, 
but no elder-tree was growing out of it ; and the old man, 
who had been talking, was just on the point of going out 
at the door, and he did go. 

“ How splendid that was !” said the little boy. “ Mother, 
I have been to warm countries.” 

“ So I should think,” said his mother. “ When one has 
drunk two good cupfulls of elder-flower tea, ’tis likely 


THE ELDER-BUSH. 


171 


enough one goes into warm climates and she tucked 
him up nicely, lest he should take cold. “ You have had 
a good sleep while I have been sitting here, and arguing 
with him whether it was a story or a fairy-tale.” 

“ And where is old Nanny ?” asked the little boy. 

“ In the tea-pot,” said his mother ; “ and there she may 


remain. 


THE RED SHOES. 


£ was once a pretty delicate 
girl who was always obliged 
barefooted in summer, and to 
heavy wooden shoes in win- 
for she was very poor, and in 
manner her little feet grew 
red, — terribly red. 

In the middle of the village lived the shoemaker’s wife ; 
and the old woman sewed together a small pair of shoes, 
as well as she was able, out of strips of cloth. They were 
very clumsy ; but it was kindly meant, and these shoes the 
little girl was to have. Her name was Karen. 

On the very day her mother was buried she got the red 
shoes, and wore them for the first time. They were not 
fit for mourning, it is true ; but she had no others ; so she 
put them on her little bare feet, and thus followed the 
humble coffin to the grave. 



THE RED SHOE?. 


173 


At the same moment a large old-fashioned carriage 
passed by, and in it there sat a stout Old Lady ; she looked 
at the child, and took pity on her ; and said to the cler- 
gyman, “Prithee give the child to me ; I will take care of 
her.” 

And Karen thought all this was owing to the red shoes ; 
but the Old Lady said they were ugly : and so they were 
burned. Karen herself was dressed nicely, and she was 
taught to read and sew ; and people said she was a pretty 
little thing; but the mirror said, “You are more than 
pretty; you are beautiful.” 

It happened that the Queen travelled through the coun- 
try, and she had her little daughter, who was a princess, 
with her ; and all the people went in crowds to the palace 
to see her. Karen went with the rest ; and there stood 
the little Princess, in a fine white dress, at the window, to 
be gazed at. She had neither train nor crown of gold ; 
but charming red morocco shoes, which were as different 
as could be from those the old shoemaker’s wife had once 
made for Karen. There is, after all, nothing in the world 
to be compared to red morocco shoes ! 

Karen was now old enough to be confirmed ; so she had 
new things, and she was to have new shoes too. The rich 
shoemaker in the town took the measure of her little foot 


174 


THE RED SHOES. 


in his own room, where large glass-cases were standing, 
filled with the most exquisite new shoes and boots. It 
looked so pretty ; but the Old Lady could not see well, so 
it gave her no pleasure. Amid the shoes stood a red pair, 
exactly like those that the Princess had worn ; oh, how 
beautiful they were ! The Shoemaker said they had been 
made for an earl’s daughter, but they had not fitted well. 

“Why, that is surely morocco !” said the Old Lady. 
“ How they shine !” 

“Yes, how they shine!” said Karen.” They fitted, and 
were bought ; but the Old Lady did not know they were 
red, for she would never have permitted Karen to go to be 
confirmed in red shoes ; however, it really happened. 

Every-body looked at her feet ; and as she went through 
the church, it seemed to her as if the old portraits above 
the grave-stones, — those pictures of clergymen and of cler- 
gymen’s wives, in long black robes, — fixed their eyes on her 
red shoes ; and on them alone did she think, when the 
clergyman laid his hand on her head, and spoke of holy 
baptism, and of her covenant with God, and said that she 
was now to show herself a Christian, being of riper years. 
Then the organ played so solemnly, the sweet voices of 
the children sounded, and the old clerk sang ; but Karen 
thought only of her red shoes. 


THE RED SHOES. 


175 


In the afternoon the Old Lady heard from every one 
that the child’s shoes were red ; and she said that red 
shoes were not pretty nor fitting ; and that for the future, 
when Karen went to church, she should always wear black 
shoes, even if they were old ones. 

Next Sunday was the communion ; and Karen looked at 
the black shoes and looked at the red : she looked once 
more at the red ones, and put them on. 

The sun was shining splendidly; Karen and the Old 
Lady went by a path through the corn, and it was rather 
dusty there. 

At the church-door stood an old soldier on crutches, and 
with a strange long beard, which was more red than white ; 
for red in truth it was. And he stooped down to the 
ground, and asked the Old Lady if he should dust her 
shoes. Karen stretched out her little foot too. “ Only 
look !” said the soldier ; “ what nice little dancing-shoes ! 
Sit tight when you dance !” And so saying, he gave the 
soles a pat with his hand. 

And the Old Lady gave the Soldier a few half-pence, 
and entered the church with Karen. 

All the people there looked at Karen’s red shoes, all 
the pictures peered down at them too ; and when Karen 
kneeled before the altar, and raised the golden chalice to 


176 


THE RED SHOES. 


her lips, she still thought of the red shoes, and it seemed 
to her as if they were swimming before her in the cup ; 
she forgot to sing her psalm, — she forgot to repeat the 
Lord’s Prayer. 

Now every-body left the church, and the Old Lady got 
into her carriage. Karen raised her foot to follow her, 
when the Old Soldier, who was standing close by, said, 
“ Only look ! what nice little dancing-shoes !” and, do 
what she would, Karen could not help making a few steps. 
When she had once begun, her feet kept on dancing ; it 
was as if the shoes had power over her ; she danced round 
the church, nor could she stop herself from doing so ; till 
at last the coachman was obliged to run after and catch 
hold of her. He lifted her into the carrriage, but still her 
feet continued dancing ; so that Karen knocked and pushed 
the poor Old Lady terribly. At last the shoes were taken 
off, and her feet grew quiet. 

The red shoes were put away in a closet ; but Karen 
could not help going to have a look at them. 

The Old Lady grew very ill, and it was said she could 
not live. She was to be nursed and waited on ; and from 
whom could she expect more attention than from Karen ? 
But there was a great ball in the town, and Karen was 
invited : she looked at the Old Lady, who certainly could 


THE RED SHOES. 


177 


not live ; she looked at the red shoes, and it seemed to her 
as if it could be no sin to go : — she drew on the shoes ; in 
that at least there could be no harm, — and then she went 
to the ball and began to dance. 

But when she wanted to go to the right, the shoes 
danced to the left ; ancT when she wished to dance up the 
ball-room, the shoes danced the other way, — down the 
stairs, through the streets, and out at the town-gates. She 
danced, and was forced to dance, right away into the dark 
forest. 

There she saw something up among the trees. She 
thought it was the moon ; but it was the Old Soldier 
with the red beard who was sitting there ; and he nodded 
his head, and said, “ Only look ! what nice little dancing- 
shoes !” 

She now grew greatly frightened, and wanted to fling 
the red shoes away ; but they clung fast. She tore off 
her stockings, but the shoes had grown on to her feet ; 
and she danced, and was forced to dance, over meadow 
and field, in rain and in sunshine, by day and by night. 
By night it was very dreadful. 

She danced into the churchyard ; but the dead there 
did not dance, they had something much better to do than 
dance. She wanted to sit down on the grave of a poor 

12 


178 


THE RED SHOES. 


person, where the bitter tanzy was growing, but for her 
there was no repose or rest ; and as she danced towards 
the open church-door, she beheld an Angel there in long 
white garments, with wings that reached from his shoulders 
to the earth. His countenance was stern and serious, and 
in his hand he held a broad and shining sword. 

“On shalt thou dance !” said he. “ Yes, on shalt thou 
dance in thy red shoes, till thou art pale and cold, till 
thy skin shrivels together like a skeleton’s !” Thou shalt 
dance on from door to door, and where proud vain children 
dwell, there shalt thou knock, that they may hear and fear 
thee ! Thou shalt dance on !” 

“ Mercy ! mercy !” cried Karen. But she heard not 
what the Angel said in reply; for the shoes bore her 
through the side-door out into the fields, over hedges and 
ditches ; still dancing, and forced to dance always. 

One morning she danced by a door which she knew. 
Voices singing psalms were heard within, and a coffin was 
carried out, decked with flowers. So Karen knew that the 
Old Lady was dead ; and it seemed to her as if she were 
now deserted and alone, and as though the curse of God’s 
angels rested upon her. 

On she danced, and was forced to dance, all the dark 
night. The shoes bore her over briers and stubble ; she 


THE RED SHOES. 


179 


was scratched and bleeding, and on she danced across the 
moor towards a lonely house. She knew that the execu- 
tioner lived there; and she tapped at the window, and 
said, “ Come out to me ! come out ! I cannot come in, for . 
I am dancing !” 

And the Executioner answered, “ It seems you do not 
know who I am. I cut off the heads of wicked men, and 
I observe my axe is trembling !” 

“Do not cut off my head,” said Karen, “for then I 
could not repent of my sins ! But my feet with the red 
shoes, cut them off !” 

And then she confessed all her sins; and the Execu- 
tioner cut off her feet with the red shoes ; and they danced 
off with the little feet over the fields right away to the 
gloomy forest. 

The man made her a pair of feet of wood, and gave her 
crutches, and taught her a psalm which sinners always 
sing. She then kissed the hand that had held the axe, 
and wandered forth across the moor. 

“ I have suffered enough now for the sake of the red 
shoes,” said she. “ I will now go to church, that they 
may see me.” So she hastened towards the church ; but 
when she came to the door, there were the red shoes dan- 
cing before her. She was horrified, and turned back. 


180 


THE RED SHOES. 


The whole week she was very melancholy, and shed 
many a bitter tear; and when Sunday came, she said, 
“ I have suffered and endured enough now ; I am as good, 
I should think, as many in the church who hold their heads 
so high.” And she set off boldly ; but she had not got 
farther than the little side-door, when she saw the red 
shoes dancing before her. She was frightened, went back 
again, and repented her sins with a sincere heart. 

She went to the vicarage, and asked if she could not be 
taken into service there. She promised to be diligent, 
and do every thing she was able ; she did not care, she 
said, for wages, if she could only have a roof over her 
head, and live with honest people. The clergyman’s wife 
had pity on her, and took her into her service. She was 
diligent and thoughtful ; and sat still and listened when 
the clergyman read the Bible of an evening. All the chil- 
dren were attached to her ; but when they talked to her 
about dress and ornament, and about being as fine as a 
queen, she shook her head reprovingly. 

The following Sunday all went to church, and they 
asked Karen if she would go too ; but she looked sorrow- 
fully, with tears in her eyes, on her crutches ; and so the 
others went without her, to hear the word of God. But 
Karen went alone into her quiet chamber, which was just 


THE RED SHOES. 


181 


large enough to hold a bed and a chair ; and here she sat 
herself, with her hymn-book in her hand. While she, 
with pious heart, was reading therein, the breeze bore the 
tones of the organ to her ear, and she lifted up her face 
tremblingly, and said, “ O God, do Thou help me !” 

Suddenly the sun shone brightly, and before her stood 
the Angel of God in white garments, whom she had seen 
before at the door of the church. He no longer held the 
sharp sword, but a green branch full of roses ; and he 
touched the ceiling with it ; and the ceiling rose quite high, 
and where the Angel had touched it, a golden star was 
shining. He touched the walls too, and they grew farther 
apart ; shé saw the organ that was playing ; she saw the 
old pictures of clergymen and clergymen’s wives : — the 
congregation sat in the pews, and sang out of their hymn- 
books. Either the church itself had come to the little 
maiden in the narrow humble chamber, or she had gone 
to the church. She sat in a pew beside the other persons 
of the clergyman’s family ; and when she had finished 
singing, and looked up, they nodded to her, and said, “ It 
was right of you to come, Karen.” 

And the organ sounded, and the voices of the children 
rose so sweet and soothingly. The warm bright sunshine 


182 


THE RED SHOES. 


streamed through the window on the spot where Karen 
was sitting ; her heart became so full of sunshine and peace 
and joy, that it broke. Her soul flew on a sunbeam up 
to God, and there no mention was ever made of the red 
shoes. 




THE BELL. 



EOPLE said, “The Evening-bell 
^ is sounding, the sun is setting.” A 
strange wondrous tone was heard 
in the narrow streets of a large 
town. It was like the sound of a 
church-bell : but it was only heard 
for a moment, for the rolling of the carriages and the 
voices of the multitude made too great a noise. 

Those persons who were walking without the town, 
where the houses were farther apart, with gardens or 
little fields between them, could see the evening sky still 
better, and heard the sound of the bell much more dis- 
tinctly. It was as if the tones came from a church in 
the still forest ; people looked thitherward, and felt their 
minds attuned most solemnly. 


184 


THE BELL. 


A long time passed, and people said to each othér — 
“ I wonder if there is a church out in the wood ? The bell 
has a tone that is wondrous sweet ; let us stroll thither, 
and examine the matter nearer.” And the rich people 
drove out, and the poor walked, but the way seemed 
strangely long to them ; and when they came to a clump 
of willows which grew on the skirts of the forest, they sat 
down, and looked up at the long branches, and fancied 
they were now in the depth of the green wood. The con- 
fectioner of the town came out, and set up his booth there ; 
and soon after came another confectioner, who hung a bell 
over his stand, as a sign or ornament, but it had no clap- 
per, and it was tarred over, to preserve it from the rain. 
When all the people returned home, they said it had been 
very romantic, and that it was quite a different sort of 
thing to a pic-nic or tea-party. There were three persons 
who asserted they had penetrated to the end of the forest, 
and that they had always heard the wonderful sounds of 
the bell, but it had seemed to them as if it had come from 
the town. One wrote a whole poem about it, and said 
the bell sounded like the voice of a mother to a good dear 
child, and that no melody was sweeter than the tones of 
the bell. The king of the country was also observant of it, 
and vowed that he who could discover whence the sounds 


THE BELL 


185 


proceeded, should have the title of “ Universal Bell-ringer/’ 
even if it were not really a bell. 

Many persons now went to the wood, for the sake of 
getting the place, but one only returned with a sort of 
explanation ; for nobody went far enough, that one not 
further than the others. However, he said that the sound 
proceeded from a very large owl, in a hollow tree ; a sort 
of learned owl, that continually knocked its head against 
the branches. But whether the sound came from his head 
or from the hollow-tree, that no one could say with certainty. 
So now he got the place of “ Universal Bell-ringer,” and 
wrote yearly a short treatise “ On the Owl but every- 
body was just as wise as before. 

It was the day of confirmation. The clergyman had 
spoken so touchingly, the children who were confirmed had 
been greatly moved ; it was an eventful day for them ; from 
children they became all at once grown-up-persons ; it was 
as if their infant souls were now to fly all at once into per- 
sons with more understanding. The sun was shining glo- 
riously ; the children that had been confirmed went out of 
the town, and from the wood was borne towards them the 
sounds of the unknown bell with wonderful distinctness. 
They all immediately felt a wish to go thither ; all except 
three. One of them had to go home to try on a ball-dress : 


186 


THE BELL. 


for it was just the dress and the ball which had caused her 
to be confirmed in time, for otherwise she would not have 
come; the other was a poor boy, who had borrowed his 
coat and boots to be confirmed in from the inkeeper’s son, 
and he was to give them back by a certain hour ; the third 
said that he never went to a strange place if his parents 
were not with him, — that he had always been a good boy 
hitherto, and would still be so now that he was confirmed, 
and that one ought not to laugh at him for it : the others 

e> o 

however, did make make fun of him after all. 

There were three, therefore, that did not go ; the others 
hastened on. The sun shone, the birds sang, and the chil- 
dren sang too, and each held the other by the hand ; for 
as yet they had none of them any high office, and were all 
of equal rank in the eye of God. 

But two of the youngest soon grew tired, and both 
returned to town ; two little girls sat down and twined gar- 
lands, so they did not go either ; and when the others 
reached the willow-tree, where the confectioner was, they 
said, “Now we are there! In reality the bell does not 
exist ; it is only a fancy that the people have taken into 
their heads !” 

At the same moment the bell sounded deep in the wood, 
so clear and solemnly, that five or six determined to pene- 


THE BELL. 


187 


trate somewhat further. It was so thick, and the foliage 
so dense, that it was quite fatiguing to proceed. Woodroof 
and anemonies grew almost too high ; blooming convolvu- 
luses and blackberry-bushes hung in long garlands from 
tree to tree, where the nightingale sang and the sunbeams 
were playing : it was very beautiful, but it was no place for 
girls to go ; their clothes would get so torn. Large blocks 
of stone lay there, overgrown with moss of every color ; 
the fresh spring bubbled forth, and made a strange gurg- 
ling sound. 

“ That surely cannot be the bell,” said one of the chil- 
dren, lying down and listening; “this must be looked to.” 
So he remained, and let the others go on without him. 

They afterwards came to a little house, made of branches 
and the bark of trees ; a large wild apple-tree bent over it, 
as if it would shower down all its blessings on the roof, 
where roses were blooming. The long stems twined round 
the gable, on which there hung a small bell. 

Was it that which people had heard ? Yes : every-body 
was unanimous on the subject, except one, who said that 
the bell was too small and too fine to be heard at so great 
a distance, and besides it was very different tones to those 
that could move a human heart in such a manner. It 
was a king’s son who spoke : whereon the others said. 


188 


THE BELL. 


“ Such people always want to be wiser than every-body 
else.” 

They now let him go on alone ; and as he went, his 
breast was filled more and more with the forest solitude ; 
but he still heard the little bell with which the others 
were so satisfied, and now and then, when the wind blew, 
he could also hear the people singing who were sitting at 
tea where the confectioner had his tent ; but the deep 
sound of the bell rose louder ; it was almost as if an organ 
were accompanying it, and the tones came from the left 
hand, the side where the heart is placed. A rustling was 
heard in the bushes, and a little boy stood before the 
King’s Son, a boy in wooden shoes, and with so short a 
jacket that one could see what long wrists he had. Both 
knew each other ; the boy was that one among the chil- 
dren who could not come because he had to go home and 
return his jacket and boots to the innkeeper’s son. This 
he had done, and was now going on in wooden shoes and 
in his humbler dress, for the bell sounded with so deep a 
tone, and with such strange power, that proceed he must. 

“Why, then, we can go together,” said the King’s Son. 
But the poor child that had been confirmed was quite 
ashamed ; he looked at his wooden shoes, pulled at the 
short sleeves of his jacket, and said, “ He was afraid he 


THE BELL. 


189 


could not walk so fast ; besides, he thought that the bell 
must be looked for to the right ; for that was the place 
where all sorts of beautiful things were to be found.” 

“ But there we shall not meet,” said the King’s Son, 
nodding at the same time to the poor boy, who went into 
the darkest, thickest part of the wood, where thorns tore 
his humble dress, and scratched his face and hands and 
feet till they bled. The King’s Son got some scratches 
too ; but the sun shone on his path, and it is him that we 
will follow, for he was an excellent and resolute youth. 

“ I must and will find the bell,” said he, “ even if I am 
obliged to go to the end of the world.” 

The ugly apes sat upon the trees, and grinned. “ Shall 
we thrash him ?” said they, “ shall we thrash him ? he is 
the son of a king !” 

But on he went, without being disheartened, deeper 
and deeper into the wood, where the most wonderful flow- 
ers were growing. There stood white lilies with blood- 
red stamina, sky-blue tulips, which shone as they waved 
in the winds, and apple-trees, the apples of which looked 
exactly like large soap-bubbles : — so only think how the 
trees must have sparkled in the sunshine ! Around the 
nicest green meads, where the deer were playing in the 
grass, grew magnificent oaks and beeches ; and if the 


190 


THE BELL. 


bark of one of the trees was cracked, there grass and long 
creeping plants grew in the crevices. And there were 
large calm lakes there too, in which white swans were 
swimming, and beat the air with their wings. The King’s 
Son often stood still and listened. He thought the bell 
sounded from the depths of these still lakes ; but then he 
remarked again that the tone proceeded not from there, 
but farther off, from out the depths of the forest. 

The sun now set : the atmosphere glowed like fire. It 
was still in the woods, so very still ; and he fell on his 
knees, sung his evening hymn, and said : “ I cannot find 
what I seek : the sun is going down, and night is coming ; 
— the dark, dark night. Yet perhaps I may be able once 
more to see the round red sun before he entirely disap- 
pears. I will climb up yonder rock.” 

And he seized hold of the creeping-plants, and the roots 
of trees, — climbed up the moist stones where the water- 
snakes were writhing and the toads were croaking, — and 
he gained the summit before the sun had quite gone down. 
How magnificent was the sight from this height ! The sea, 
— the great, the glorious sea, that dashed its long waves 
against the coast, — was stretched out before him. And 
yonder, where sea and sky meet, stood the sun, like a 
large shining altar, all melted together in the most glowing 


THE BELL. 


191 


colors. And the wood and the sea sang a song of rejoic- 
ing, and his heart sang with the rest : all nature was a vast 
holy church, in which the trees and the buoyant clouds 
were the pillars, flowers and grass the velvet carpeting, 
and heaven itself the large cupola. The red colors above 
faded away as the sun vanished, but a million stars were 
lighted, a million lamps shone ; and the King’s Son spread 
out his arms towards heaven, and wood, and sea ; when at 
the same moment, coming by a path to the right, appeared, 
in his wooden shoes and jacket, the poor boy who had 
been confirmed with him. He had followed his own path, 
and had reached the spot just as soon as the son of the 
king had done. They ran towards each other, and stood 
together hand in hand in the vast church of nature and of 
poetry, while over them sounded the invisible holy bell : 
blessed spirits floated around them, and lifted up their 
voices in a rejoicing hallelujah. 





HOLGER DANSKE. 



N Denmark is an old castle, called Kron- 
burg, which lies near the Sound, 
where large ships sail daily past by 
hundreds : English, and Russian, 
and Prussian ships. And they sa- 
lute the old castle with their cannon, 
— “ Boom !” and the castle answers 
with its cannon, — “ Boom !” for this is the way the can- 
nons say, “ Good morning,” and “ Much obliged to you.” 
But in winter no ships sail by ; for the water is then all 
covered with ice as far as Sweden. It is quite like a high- 
way. Danish and Swedish flags are waving there ; and 
Danes and Swedes say to each other, — “ Good morning !” 
and “Much obliged to you!” yet not with cannons, but 
with friendly shakes of the hand ; and the one people go 
over to fetch wheaten bread and cracknel biscuits from the 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


193 


other ; for we always like what we get abroad better than 
home-fare. But the most magnificent of the whole is, 
after all, the old Castle of Kronburg ; and here it is that 
Holger Danske sleeps in the deep dark cellar, where no one 
ever enters. He is clad in steel and iron, and rests his 
head on his stalwart arm ; his long beard falls over the 
marble table, to which it has grown fast ; he sleeps and 
dreams, but in his dream he sees all that is going on in 
Denmark. Every Christmas-eve an angel comes and tells 
him that what he has dreamed is true, and that he may go 
to sleep again ; for that Denmark is as yet in no real danger. 
But should it be so, old Holger Danske will arise, and the 
table will split in twain when he draws his beard towards 
him. He then advances and strikes a blow that is heard 
in all the countries of the world. 

All this about Holger Danske was told by an old grand- 
papa to his little grandson ; and the child knew that what 
grandpapa said was true. And while the old man told 
his story, he worked at a large figure of wood representing 
Holger Efanskc, which was intended for the figure-head of 
a ship ; for the old grandfather was a carver, and made 
figures to be placed at the prows of vessels, according to 
their names: and here he had cut out Holger Danske, 
with his long beard and his slender figure, standing so 

13 


194 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


proudly with his broad battle-sword in one hand, and the 
other resting on the arms of Denmark. 

And the old grandfather told so many things about re- 
markable Danish men and women, that at last his little 
grandchild thought he knew quite as much as Holger 
Danske could know, who, after all, only dreamed about the 
matter ; and when the little fellow was in bed, he thought 
so much about it, that he quite pressed his chin upon the 
counterpane, and it seemed to him as if he had a long 
beard, and that the two were grown together. 

The old grandfather remained sitting at his work, and 
was carving the last bit he had to do : it was the Danish 
arms. Now he had finished ; and he looked at the whole, 
and thought of all he had read and heard, and of what 
he had told the little boy that evening ; and he nodded 
and wiped his spectacles, put them on his nose again, and 
said, — “ Yes, Holger Danske will hardly appear in my 
time. But the boy there in bed may get a sight of him, 
and be present when the great day comes/’ And then 
the old grandfather nodded ; and the more he looked at 
his Holger Danske, the more clearly he saw that the fig- 
ure he had made was a good one ; it almost seemed to 
him as if it had a color, and as though the armor grew 
bright like real steel and iron. The hearts of the Danish 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


195 


arms grew redder and redder, and the lions leaped up with 
crowns of gold upon their heads. 

“ That’s the very finest coat-of-arms in the world,” said 
the old man. “ The lions denote strength, and the hearts 
love and clemency.” And he looked at the uppermost 
lion, and thought of King Canute, who bound mighty-Eng- 
land to the throne of Denmark ; and he gazed at the sec- 
ond lion, and thought of Waldemar, who collected the 
scattered states of Denmark and conquered the countries 
of the Vandals ; he looked at the third lion, and thought 
of Margaret, who united Denmark, and Sweden, and Nor- 
way ; but when he looked at the red hearts, they seemed 
more ruddy than before, — they grew into flames that 
moved, and he followed each one in thought. 

The first flame led him to a narrow dark prison : there 
sat a captive, — a noble woman, Eleonora Ulfeld, Christian 
the Fourth’s daughter ; and the flame settled like a rose 
upon her bosom, and there it bloomed with her heart, — 
with the heart of her, the best and noblest of all Danish 
women. 

“ Ves, that is one heart in the army of Denmark!” said 
the old grandfather. 

And his thoughts followed the other flame, that led him 
upon the sea whére the cannons thundered, and the ships 


196 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


lay enwrapped in smoke ; and the flame fixed itself, like the 
ribbon of an order of knighthood, on the breast of Hvit- 
feldt, as, for the preservation of the fleet, he blew up him- 
self and his ship. 

And the third flame led him to Greenland’s needy huts, 
where stood the pastor Hans Egede with love in his words 
and deeds. The flame was a star on his breast, a heart 
for the arms of Denmark ; and the thoughts of the old 
grandfather preceded the buoyant flame, for he well knew 
where it would go to. In the humble room of the peasant 
woman stood Frederick the Sixth, and wrote his name with 
chalk on the rafters. The flame trembled on his breast, 
trembled in his heart ; in the room of the peasant his 
heart became a heart for Denmark’s arms. And the old 
grandfather dried his eyes ; for he had lived for King 
Frederick, with his venerable silver hair and honest blue 
eyes ; he had known him too, — and -he folded his hands, 
and gazed silently before him. Then the old man’s 
daughter-in-law came in, and said it was late ; that it was 
time to leave off work, and that supper was ready. 

“ But what you have made is really quite beautiful, 
grandfather,” said she. “ Holger Danske and our old 
arms complete ! It seems to me that I have seen that face 
before !” 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


197 


“ No, that cannot well be,” said the old grandfather. 
“ But I have seen it and have tried to carve it in wood 
from memory. It was when the English were lying in the 
roadstead, on the second of April, when we showed that 
we were true old Danes. On the ‘ Denmark,’ when I was 
in the squadron under Steen Billes, a man stood beside me : 
it was as if the balls were afraid of him ! Merrily did he 
sing the old songs, and fired and fought as though he were 
more than human ! 1 still remember his countenance ; but 
whence he came, or whither lie went, I know not. No 
one knows ! I have often thought that it was old Holger 
Danske himself, who had swam down from Kronbmrg, and 
had aided in the hour of danger. That was my fancy, 
and there stands his likeness.” 

And the figure threw its large shadow quite high upon 
the wall, even on the ceiling ; and it looked at if it were 
really Holger Danske himself that was standing there, for 
the shadow moved ; but that might be because the flame 
of the lamp did not burn steadily. And the daughter-in- 
law kissed the old grandfather, and drew him towards the 
great arm-chair before the table ; and she and her husband, 
who was, of course, the son of the old man, and the father 
of the little boy lying in bed, ate their evening meal ; and 
the old grandfather told about the Danish lion, and the 


198 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


Danish hearts ; told them about strength and gentleness. 
And he explained, quite distinctly, that there is another 
strength besides that which lies in the sword ; and he 
pointed to the shelf where old books were lying, where 
the collected comedies of Holberg were ; books which had 
been read and re-read, so amusing were they : you fancied 
that all the persons in them were known to you since many 
a day. 

“ Look you ! he could use his chisel too,” said the 
grandfather. “ What was false and cross-grained in people, 
he chiselled away as well as he could !” And the old man 
gave ajiod of his head in the direction of the looking-glass, 
in which was stuck the calender, with “the Round Tower” 
on the cover ; and he said, “ Tycho Brahe, too, was one 
of those who used the sword, — not to hew into flesh and 
blood, but to clear a more distinct path between all the 
stars of heaven ! And then he, whose father was of my 
craft, the old sculptor’s son ;• he with the white hair and 
strong shoulders, whom we ourselves have read about ; 
he, in short, who is talked of in all the countries of the 
world !* — ah, he could work in stone ; I can only carve in 
wood ! Yes, yes, Holger Danske can come in many ways, 


* Thorwaldsen. 


HOLGER DANSKE 


199 


in order that one may hear of Denmark’s power in all parts 
of the world !” 

But the little boy in bed saw distinctly the old castle of 
Kronburg and the Sound, and the real Holger Danske, who 
sat deep under the earth, with his beard grown fast to the 
marble table, dreaming of all that is going on above. Hol- 
ger Danske dreamed, too, of the little humble room where 
the carver sat ; he heard all that was spoken, nodded in 
his dream, and said : 

“Yes, remember me, ye Danish people! Give thought 
unto me. I will come in the hour of need !” 

And the bright day shone in brilliancy throughout the 
castle of Kronburg, and the wind bore the sounds of the 
hunter’s horn across from the neighboring land ; the ships 
sailed by, and saluted, “ Boom, boom !” and from Kron- 
burg came the answer, “ Boom, boom !” But Holger 
Danske did not awake, let them fire as loud as they may ; 
for, you know, it was only “ Good day,” and “Very much 
obliged,” that they said. There must be a different sort 
of firing before he will awake ; but awake he is sure to do, 
fow strength and power dwell in Holger Danske. 


Those for whom I have translated these Tales— the children of 
England— may not, perhaps, know that there is more than one tradi- 


200 


HOLGER DANSKE. 


tion very similar to that of Holger Danske, to be found in Germany, 
relating, of course, to those monarchs who, while living, called forth 
the admiration of their country. The most popular one is about 
Frederic Barbarossa, who — but as what I am going to tell you will 
make rather a long note, I think I will give the German Emperor a 
chapter to himself. — C. B. 


THE EMPEROR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA. 



A CHAPTER BY THE TRANSLATOR. 


[ERMANY has many traditions. One 
of the most popular is about the 
Emperor Frederic I . ; and this 
^ tradition is to be considered as 
something more than a mere 
empty tale or goblin story, for it 
is associated with the destiny and 
the hopes of a whole people. 

Well, this mighty Emperor, this 
“ greatest hero of the Christian 
world,” who, while he reigned, 
strove incessantly to make the 
German empire what it once had 
been, is said to be still alive. He 
sits spell-bound in the Kyfhauser mountain ; nor will that 
spell be broken until the day of judgment, unless his coun- 
try should be in the dreadest need. He has taken with 


202 


THE EMPEROR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA. 


him the jewels of the empire, and they stand beside him 
on a marble table. His fiery beard, which still grows dur- 
ing his enchanted sleep, must reach three times round the 
table before he will awake. As yet, however, it goes round 
but twice. His sword is in his hand in readiness, and he 
waits till his day shall come. Some shepherds, ’tis said, 
have seen him, and he has asked, “ Do the ravens still fly 
round the mountain ?” and when answered in the affirma- 
tive, he has again rested his head upon his hand, and said, 
** Then I must sleep for another hundred years !” 

And why, you will ask, should the people think that 
he is still alive? Because the nation could not bring 
themselves to believe, that the great monarch who for near 
forty years had ruled as German Emperor ; who had gone 
forth with his tens, — ay, with his hundreds of thousands 
of soldiers to battle — that he, the noble, the magnanimous, 
the indomitable Emperor, who had made the restoration of 
the German empire, as it had once been, the aim of his whole 
life, could possibly have left them forever. When, I say, 
his astounded people were told that he was no more, — that 
they would never again behold his glorious countenance ; 
when they saw the Crusaders coming back from the strug- 
gle with the Infidel, and missed the chief who had led 
them forth in power ; when asking for him, they were told 


THE EMPEROR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA. 203 

he lay entombed at Antioch, — then all were struck dumb 
with amazement, and men knew not what to think. 

The Holy Land was a far distant country, around which 
was mystery. The eager questioners about the circum- 
stances of their hero’s death heard various accounts ; and 
when men began to wake from their bewilderment, they 
whispered to each other doubts of what they had been 
told, — doubts of his being really dead ! They forgot his 
mortal nature, and remembered him only as what to their 
minds he had ever been, — as a guiding spirit sent by 
Heaven for the accomplishment of some great destiny. 
Could he, then, have ceased to be ? Could he have left 
them thus suddenly, far from his own native land ? The 
more they pondered, the stronger grew the pleasing hope 
that he was still with his people, and that when the day 
should arrive for the fulfiment of his darling scheme, he 
would certainly come forth again, and lead his chosen to 
victory. And in this thought they found consolation. 
From a hope it became a certainty, and henceforth they 
clung to this creation of their fancy with all the devoted- 
ness of veneration and of love. 

Thus we see that the tradition in question is not a tale 
invented for mere amusement’s sake, but rather the visible 


204 THE EMPEItOR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA. 

form which the cherished feeling of a whole people has 
taken in expressing itself, — the tangible shape assumed by 
the hopes and longings of the nation in giving themselves 
vent. 

It is true such a belief could hardly spring up now ; 
but this, you must remember, was in days 600 years ago. 
Many circumstances have happened since to make men’s 
minds different to what they then were. There is no 
probability of such a tradition becoming prevalent about 
Napoleon. Though many a veteran may have stood lost 
in thought beside his tomb, and have wished the while it 
were possible for his General to hear the tramp of the 
thousands as they marched near his resting-place, or that 
the drum’s long rolling could reach him in his coffin ; 
though, too, the fanciful wish may have been imparted to 
some trusty comrade, old soldier like himself, yet it would 
never be spoken of as a thing that might be. Many a one 
even has most assuredly seen, in his mind’s eye, the well- 
known figure of his Emperor standing, as it were, before 
him, and with all the reality of life, while dwelling on 
some vividly-remembered event of past days. Neverthe- 
less, we are sure to hear no tradition of the Emperor 
going his rounds beneath the dome of the Invalides, while 


THE EMPEROR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA. 


205 


still watching over the destinies of France. Men’s minds 
are changed. 

You must know, too, that the desire of Barbarossa to re- 
establish the holy Roman Empire under one head, makes 
his memory especially dear to Germany ; for there even 
now men talk of its fulfilment : not, indeed, as an event 
likely to be accomplished, but as one most ardently to be 
desired. Still many a heart beats quicker at the mention 
of such a state of things ; there are many still who, like 
Barbarossa, view this as the grandest aim of all human 
striving. 

Can we wonder, then, that the Germans love to dwell 
on this pleasing vision, connected as it is with so much 
that is dear to their countrymen ? It is like a shadow 
falling on the stream of time, but the event that casts the 
shade is behind them, out of sight, and beyond their reach. 

The most natural spot for the abode of such a sleeper 
would be some mountain solitude. Childhood is always 
poetical; and I do not doubt that those of my young 
readers who have stood on the dreary heights of West- 
moreland, or amid the still grander mountain scenery of 
the Continent, will have felt its influence, and, without 
being cowards, have experienced a sort of dread at the 


206 


THE EMPEROR FREDERIC BARBAROSSA. 


awful stillness around them. There is nothing there to 
disturb the slumberer: not a sound is heard of man or 
beast ; for not a creature comes up into that realm of 
dreariness : the very rocks seem spell-bound, and lying in 
an enchanted sleep. 

CHARLES BONER. 
























